There's a Track, right there, in the forest. May 18, 2011
My schedule is topsy turvy. My children keep me on my toes. My body, my aging body, speaks to me in ways I just wish it would not. I thrive on routine, but life keeps spinning me in circles, blindfolded, sometimes on the edge of a psychological cliff. And it knows darn well, I don't like heights.
What can I control?
Not what that boards recertification exam will be like tomorrow.
But between now and New York, this is my plan. Come earthquake or tsunami. Come night shift or day shift. Come meetings or travels or rhinoviruses:
WEDNESDAY SPEED
SUNDAY LONG RUN
WEIGHT LIFTING TWICE PER WEEK
A RUN IN THE WOODS ONCE PER WEEK
THE OTHER DAYS, RUN FOR JOY.
No one can predict what might happen next. Just consider the manneqins. And these guys:
They never knew what hit them. May 18, 2011
Steeplechasers know topsy turvy. They eat it for breakfast.
I had some 800 meter repeats for breakfast.
Because it is Wednesday.
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