Thankfully. Not stopping. Slept in a bit and now at keys with single and small coffee made here in home. Someone in AE meeting yesterday saying they wake with the sun, have been riding a bike, lost 20 pounds. Weighed self this morning and I think it said 170.6. Down from 172-something. Meals planned for day, and drinking every drop of water I can find. Aim is to be in the best shape of my lift for the half-marathon in October. Over three months to get there.
7:54. Different kind of quiet in the house right now. No movement, but that could change.
Use the sensation from yesterday, right when the contract landed. Have new vertical selected…. Calls and emails planned for the day. Don’t think I have anything on calendar. And who needs a calendar. Who needs a plan when you can just do. When you can just produce.
Still waking up. Why am I so tired. Present, in chair, thinking about today’s run… new route, something to get me excited and interested. Only 3 miles yesterday I’m pretty sure from the heat, being a bit distant from condition, but as well and should be noted BORED. The same route, the same streets and sounds, smells, feel of course. I started walking in the vineyard, right as you turn that last corner and have that straightaway back to the street. FUCK, I said to myself. The walk was nice, but I couldn’t shake the truth of only hitting 3. Those straightaways, not a fan. They don’t help. But why should they help. Why not help myself with running. What I’ll do today, starting with course…. Small streets, right off San Miguel. Loop the small streets and do shorter straightaways. Be random and unplanned, keep self excited and interested.
Phone just rang, recognized number but didn’t pick up. One of my calls from yesterday. Hoping he wants something, phones or internet. The voicemail he left sounded awake and enthusiastic.— Wish I would’ve been up earlier. With the sun ideally.
Done with first cup, almost. Still feel that charge and not celebration but something like it from when the contract came in yesterday. Hear one of the kids upstairs, I think Emma. Ha, yes it’s her, that loud and lazy little girl yawn.
Attitude, my psychology study and keep it this. Right now, and yesterday. Talk to everyone, be more virtual, write every fucking thing down. 41, and I’m just now knowing myself and what I’m able to do which is anything.
Not knowing what to type next I just focus on the writing itself, talking with a friend last night and she sending me a poem she wrote about a lover of hers that recently passed away. Death still frightening me, and I know that no moments are assured so why fret over what to write and excessively editing. Thought to share with students in Fall, possibly, and whenever I find out if I have those 1A sections for sure.
8:16 No one downstairs yet. Keep trying to remember when they all went to bed last night. Me with a final glass of Zin and talking to my poet friend, which reminds me I need to write more verse, much more …. music. And record my readings. Use my phone as more of a studio. A track a day— Written as certain aim in journal, along with others.
8:21 Hear Jack moving around upstairs, getting dressed. Should write flight plan and send to Director. Start day, get to 200% of quota, or more. Probably won’t hit that, but I wanted to type it and see how it felt. See what it did.