-The Oatmeal
The past two weeks have been wreaking havoc on my creative schedule. Launching into a new book can be treacherous, I think I need some time from research, however I began some enjoyable non-fiction but then almost immediately found I needed to join the rest of the adolescent world in reading TFIOS.
Meanwhile, ordinary life at the onset of summer (baseball games, World Cup matches, doing dishes) has kept me up late, but rising before dawn (or at dawn, whatever) has been challenging as I wake every morning with a sack of sand on my face.
Preparing to depart for VACATION™ at the best of times can fill me with increasing anxiety, but for some reason this summer has been the opposite. By Wednesday I wanted to just fall down and die, but by Friday evening I had become quite zen about the endeavor.
We would depart late. We always do. As the sun rises and falls and the tides they ebb and flow, so too are we a crew of malingering procrastinators and rather than crack the whip or sit and stew, I decided to move as slowly as anyone in our preparations, breathe deeply, and smile.
I have found the "serenity prayer" mildly irritating, ever since the second time I heard it, but it is true, sometimes a man has got to accept his limitations.
Here.
Rose to natural sunlight at 7:00 AM. Second or third to rise, I sat out on the deck and wrote longhand before joining MIL on the beach to read. There will be more writing. There will be much reading.
Temperature: 74°
Barefoot run: .5 miles
The girl and I mapped out a half-mile route along the shore, we would run barefoot both ways to make a mile. She was strong and determined, though close to the halfway point she complained of a cramp and stopping at the half-mile she bemoaned the fact that she would never be able to run another 5K ever again.
I asked her when she ran last and she said it had been a week and I suggested that might have something to do with it. That and I do not believe she has had any breakfast, nor did she drink water prior to running.
Perhaps I should remind her to do that.
Walking back in the surf her mood picked up considerably and we ran the last tenth of a mile back. We agreed it will be more successful tomorrow.
Distance (solo w/shoes): 3.2 miles
Two old man, running on the beach, pass each other and wave. One is wearing my shoes.
The Prisoner Playlist
The Brazilian - Genesis
The Prisoner - Squeeze
Lies * - The Rolling Stones
Paperlate - Genesis
Hourglass - Squeeze
Sole Salvation - The Beat
Girlfriend - Matthew Sweet
Tears of a Clown * - The Beat
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