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Showing posts from March, 2014

The Night of the Ten Mile Run

I woke up about 14 hours ago. I put on clothes I had laid out the night before. I even pre-pinned my bib, which turned out to be a mistake because one of the pins lied when it said it was of the safety type. I woke up about six hours after I had gone to bed after a night in which I went out and enjoyed myself. I reconnected with an old friend and had a great time speaking with her, a fellow single parent with whom I have a lot in common. I stayed out past my rightful bed-time, but I didn't care.  I hate waking up early, but I had absolutely no trouble getting up for this race. This was the fifth year in a row I was set to run it, and that's something that allows me to feel confidence in myself. No matter how inconsistent I might seem to myself, there are certain things in my life that I never fail to accomplish. I fell asleep last night before UVA lost to Michigan State in the Sweet Sixteen game. I put my head down and suddenly it was three in the morning. I never s

On the Eve of the Ten Mile Run

Five years later, I've regained all the weight.  I'm no longer the slim person I became in the months following the end of my marriage. I am in the worst shape since that time, and no longer feel motivated to work hard to exercise my body for the sake of my health. A year or so ago, I was still motivated. I spent the spring working out eight times a week at least. I was swimming, lifting weights, and running. I got back in really good shape, but did not get back in the habit once I came back from England in late July.  Slowly I've stopped making the time to get in shape. There are many reasons for this. I'm a single father, and my children are at my house a lot more than they used to be. I'm also a hard-working journalist and stories often pop up, which means I often change my plans for work. But, there's a much more important explanation.  I stopped believing in myself.  Without going into the details, I pursued a relationship with som

A realization that should be marked publicly

Is this thing on? I'm writing this from a crowded tasting room somewhere in Charlottesville. I'm ostensibly finishing up work for the day by going through a list of stories to see what I need to do next. My job has been merciless of late, and I have a rare chance today to catch up on looking forward. So, what is this realization that should be marked publicly? I don't really know, to be sure. Of course, I have an idea or two, but I don't have any ability to commit my private thoughts into the public realm at this time. This is something I was able to do in the past, but I'm much more hesitant to do so now.  Instead, I'm sitting in a public space writing out ideas for future stories, tackling a tickle list of stories. I don't know anyone here, and no one knows me. These are my fellow residents, skewing in age from mid-twenties to mid-fifties. But I don't know any of them. And I never will.  I was going to write more about how lit