The Baltimore transplant refuses to let being born legally blind stop him from having a full life -- his parents wouldn't have it.

"Growing up, they told me some things might take longer or be harder to do, but not being able to see is no excuse to give up," Griffin said.

So, he won't quit -- ever.

In 2005, Griffin moved to Chicago. He finished law school and got a job as a Cook County assistant state's attorney in the child protection division, doing what he called "the Lord's work" of terminating parental rights when kids aren't safe.

When the stress of the job gets to him, Griffin goes running -- Forrest Gump style -- hours at a time, mostly late at night. At first, jogging was a way to melt away his pudgy middle.

"I could only run for a minute without having to stop and walk," he said. "But I developed endurance over time."

In 2008, he ran the Shamrock Shuffle and later his first marathon at Disney World.

Soon, a marathon wasn't enough of a challenge, especially after he saw a story of a legally blind Ironman on TV.

Inspired, Griffin took his parents' advice to the extreme -- competing in the world's toughest race: The Ironman.

How does a blind guy navigate the open water on the 2.4-mile swim, speed around curves on a bicycle over 112 miles and then run a marathon in a single day?

Well, with a little help. Griffin hooked up with the C Different Foundation, a group committed to helping blind athletes compete.

"I can see well enough to run on my own, but I'd get lost on the swim," he said. "And on the bike, you're going 50 miles per hour downhill. There's no way I could be on a bike by myself going that fast."

The group lent Griffin a tandem bicycle and assigned a volunteer guide for his first grueling race -- the Ford Ironman Louisville.

On the swim and run, the guide leads the way -- tethered to Griffin by a bungee cord -- and they ride together on a tandem bicycle.

"It took a little getting used to being tied to each other, but it was such a blessing," Griffin said. "Around the 90-mile mark, I was really in pain, but the guy in front of me was going through the same thing and he helped me get through it. ... You start at 7 a.m, and as long as you get done by midnight, you can call yourself an Ironman."

Griffin earned his Ironman street cred the first time out -- finishing in 15 hours and 33 minutes. And he has run several Ironmans and marathons since.

"The biggest thing for me always has been finding a way to get something done if I can do it," he said. "I like the motivation of having a race to train for and the camaraderie I've found in the triathlon subculture. What's different than other sports is everyone is always helping each other because we know what the other person is going through."

Complete physical agony, that is. Followed by the joy of crossing the finish line, of course. And, ultimately, training for a new race.

For Griffin, the Bank of America Chicago Marathon Oct. 10 is next. He's not sure if he's prepared for the race, but he's running anyway.

A few buddies are trying to tackle their first marathon, and he wants to be alongside them, stride for stride, as motivation for them to make it.

"All I know is that no matter what your disability, there's something about seeing other people succeed that's motivation and encouragement," Griffin said. "If I can do it, anyone can do it. Anything is possible."

Griffin can see that clearly.

Yuriy and Aimee Zmysly embrace in their new home, which they plan to move into this weekend. (Rich Hein/Sun-Times)

Standing in the living room with her husband, Yuriy, Aimee Zmysly cried.

Finally, after so many years, these were happy tears.

"I was overrun with emotion," she said. "It's just that all these good things have been happening at once and everything, all the bad things in our life, are coming to a close and changing into happy moments."

In April, the Sun-Times front page declared, "Aimee and Yuriy: A Love Story," recounting the Oak Lawn couple's amazing tale of all they had gone through since Yuriy suffered a devastating brain injury at a military hospital during routine surgery after surviving two war zones with the Marine Corps in Iraq and Afghanistan. The surgery left Yuriy unable to see, walk or talk. Aimee married him and became his caretaker. Ever since, they've lived in a tiny room in Aimee's parents house.

Generous readers -- touched by Aimee's devotion to her husband, amazed by Yuriy's determination and even angry about how the government treated them -- helped make sure the next chapter in their life story was a happy one.

On Monday, Aimee and Yuriy got to see their newly renovated and fully furnished house, which was made possible by the not-for-profit group Salute Inc. and people touched by their story.

"It's amazing that all the people that have come in and done all this work and didn't even know us," Aimee said.

Jessica Rodnick is a trip. She's witty and whip-smart, and she pours a good drink.
But it's the wacky signs she's posted alongside graffiti tags all around Pilsen that really got my attention. Here's the story.
Check out her public graffiti commentary.

Do Not Worry -- this is not my attempt to be the next John Belushi.
But the fine folks at The Playground, 3209 N. Halsted (at Belmont), have invited me on stage to read a few of my columns on Thursday night as inspiration for the Big Yellow Bus improv troupe's performance. (That's tomorrow night, people.) It' should be fun.

For more information www.the-playground.com. Or check them out on Facebook.

Mayor Daley -- Mayor for Life, they once called him -- shocked Chicago, if not the country, by announcing today that he will not remain in office for the rest of his life.
Instead, he will retire from office in 2011. Daley called it a personal decision, which means he must not have lost that "fire in the belly" for being mayor. He always said that once the belly fire was extinguished it's time to call it quits.
"For me that time is now," Daley said.
So, what now? Who's next? What will Chicago be like with out a Daley in office. (Or will another Daley -- the mayor's brothers John, Bill or son Patrick -- take a run at the seat?
It's no secret President Obama's chief of staff, Rahm Emmanuel, wants to be mayor. Cook County Sheriff Tom Dart has always been considered a 19th Ward favorite, to say the least. Other less prominent Chicago aldermen also have said they're mulling a mayoral bid.
Whoever is elected Chicago's next mayor, they will never be as entertaining as Mayor Daley has been over the last 21 years. I got an up close look at Daley while covering City Hall for the Daily Southtown from 1999 to 2004.
No matter what you think of Daley's politics -- or the sale of those parking meters -- Da Mare is a true Chicago original, the ultimate Chicago character.
Chicago won't be the same without him in office -- for better or worse.

It's not every day that I get an email from someone who wants me to know they are a true Chicago character who deserves to be in my column. No, that only happens every other day.
When Marc Livingston emailed to tell me that he's not just a character, not just Englewood's poet laureate, not just the best poet in Chicago, but the Greatest Poet Alive, I had to meet him.
Our chat at the Starbucks on 87th Street was truly enlightening. Livingston is a relentless rhymer who fancies himself part Langston Hughes part 50 Cent and all poet. He gets a fair share of ribbing for calling himself the greatest, but they way he sees it if he doesn't think he's the best no one else will. So there you have it. Check out the column, and here's a video of his latest poem, Facebook(A Hell of a Drug) on YouTube. (The picture is bad, but the audio is clear.)