I was cleaning — and I use the term loosely — this evening when I stumbled — that one is literal — on my old copy of “Chicken Soup for the Soul.”

Have you read it in any of its incarnations? If not, I highly recommend you click on over to Amazon.

So, after I tripped over the book and sent it flying across the room, it fell open to a very appropriate story. Unfortunately, I am unable to post the whole thing verbatim here because that would be illegal. (Damn copyright laws. They get ya every time.) I can, however, paraphrase and share the gist.

The author of this particular story, Chick Moorman, was recalling a long-ago day when he was observing a class of fourth graders hard at work. Glancing over some of the kids’ shoulders, he was somewhat disconcerted to see that everything they were writing seemed quite negative.

Each sentence started with two words — I can’t. Lists and lists of “I can’t …” this and “I can’t …” that.

Before he could ask the teacher why she was having her class focus on such negativity, she finished her own list of “I can’ts” and told the students to wrap up theirs.

All of the papers were folded neatly before going into a shoe box. The teacher, box of “I can’ts” in hand, took the class outside to the playground where they proceeded to dig a hole.

They buried the box — buried their “I can’ts.”

The teacher then offered a eulogy. I have to quote this part.

“Friends, we gather today to honor the memory of ‘I Can’t.’ While he was with us on earth, he touched the lives of everyone, some more than others. His name, unfortunately, has been spoken in every public building — schools, city halls, state capitols and yes, even the White House. [But never by a 3-Day walker.]

“We have provided ‘I Can’t’ with a final resting place and a headstone that contains his epitaph. He is survived by his brothers and sister, ‘I Can,’ ‘I Will’ and ‘I’m Going to Right Away.’ They are not as well known as their famous relative and are certainly not as strong and powerful yet. Perhaps some day, with your help, they will make an even bigger mark on the world.

“May ‘I Can’t’ rest in peace and may everyone present pick up their lives and move forward in his absence.”

Great story, right? I absolutely love the symbolism and am very tempted to go bury a shoe box of my own. For now, though, this post will have to suffice. (I don’t have any place I can dig a hole.)

The one thing I disagree with in the teacher’s eulogy is the power of “I Can” and “I Will.” I believe most 3-Dayers would be with me on that because “I CAN and I WILL” seems to be our mantra. When used as verbs, can and will are extremely powerful words.

Training? I can. Walking? I will. Fundraising? I’m going to right away. (Can’t forget the other sibling.)

Beating breast cancer? Oh, hell yeah! We can AND we will.

The word “can’t” in relation to what I endeavor to accomplish is no longer part of my vocabulary.

“Can’t,” thou art banished! You are dead to me.

Long live “I Can.”