I wrote for half an hour and then wolfed down some snacks that I decided to call lunch and hurried off to campus to put in some time in the weight room. Our star player was lifting at the same time again, he and I are both nursing injuries. The difference is that I don’t have to carry the hopes and dreams of my team. It’s just me out here.
December 2, 2013
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January 7, 2012
Considered the lessons from this afternoon’s run while making do with remnants: I will go out too fast. Drop my shoulders, drop my arms, drop my hands, shorten my stride. It’s all about pace at this point. Stay on top of my breath. Slow down long enough to get it back. I can’t live by my watch alone. At some point these external markers will have to give way. End every run excited to see my shoes in the morning. Consistent effort in a single direction makes steady and incremental change, turns out it’s my favorite kind. Like me running outside for half an hour and liking it.
March 24, 2009
I’m super-shy about the telephone, always afraid to talk to people on it. I mean, if I can’t see your face, how do I know you’re not rolling your eyes? So even though my afternoon call is with a friend of a friend to talk about something potentially mutually beneficial, I was still sort of bouncy and jagged knowing that when lunch was over I’d have to get cracking on increasing my business use of cell phone. I responded like my productivity guru would want me too, converting my nervous spastic energy into a search for a document I know I need for my homework assignment. (This search mostly consisted of asking other librarians to search for me.) The third of four jams from the trip to Canada, I like the blackberry the best so far. I’m saving blueberry for last.
January 28, 2009
You know what’s not going to work between now and the end of April? I’ll do it later. The notes from last week’s meeting were threatening to move from daily list to daily list to that final list, the one of things I just never did. So I said no sandwich until you’re done and that did the trick. I struck through meeting notes on my list and leaned way way back in my cloffice chair and ate my granola bar and listened to my Ryan Adams station on Pandora and closed my eyes and daydreamed about holding hands in front of an extraordinary view, today it was somewhere in Arizona.
January 20, 2009
I ate my kiddie lunch perched on a chair down in the Quizno’s lounge next to B. and her chicken salad, watching the historic events unfold on the television screens with a surprisingly quiet crowd of students. I hated that Rick Warren gave the opening prayer, surprised at how much he called forth my grief and my anger; I’m not usually like that about identity-politics things. And my eyes got wet and I broke up into little giggles when Obama needed the oath repeated. Unlike the rest of the crowd, I stayed through the reading of the poem, finding it unexpectedly lovely. I hear she’s a dyke whispered B., but I think that’s just wishful thinking.
November 9, 2008
I wrapped my sandwich in a paper towel and took it along with me as I rushed around the corner to pick up S. so we could make it to the meetup spot in time for the game. The sky was rinsed with blue, the last of the bright yellow leaves falling on the parkway as the sun dropped already down below the tree tops. I started in on my granola bar and we remarked on the weather, This is just the perfect day for football. It was chilly in the shade but I didn’t bring a jacket–I figured once we made it to the gridiron and I put on the rush I’d get too hot. I was right.
November 3, 2008
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I’m working the late shift tonight for the first time since the days when I ran the film projector so could not figure out when would be best to eat lunch. I figured the later the better and held out until there was just no holding out anymore and gobbled down my sandwich and granola bar in my cloffice, chilly but not damp like the outside world, and perused the books section, where I learned that Elizabeth Bishop fell in love during a stopover on a long freighter cruise, while being nursed through an allergic reaction to a cashew fruit. Still, I wouldn’t trade my sobriety and sturdy reliability for such wonders. I don’t think.