Winter’s last deep freeze?

The morning’s snow fog cloaks trees in ice, an eagle flies North, and the days of February blow forward. Is Spring training near?

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Offering a Book Discount in Honor of my Fellow WordPressers

Feel free to check it out! Use the link below:

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Now Available at Lulu.com: Farm Your Training Day: An American Dream of Sustainable Personal Fitness

It’s official. Click on the book cover icon at the upper right side of this screen, and you can go there. The E-book will be available in about one week. For now, it is print on demand, with some extra cost of production. I tried to set as reasonable a print price as possible considering all factors. You can also click here:

Farm Your Training Day: An American Dream of Sustainable Personal Fitness

Farm Your Training Day: An American Dream of Sustainable Personal Fitness

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Running through…

 

Running well below the profile of average runners, staying slow on purpose, I opened up to the ruddy and wheat hued fragments of crushed pebble and granite meeting my feet; the leafy spring air; the man pulling the bass from the water below me; the odd gait of a man ahead on the trail as he looked up into a tree; the approaching sound waves from the woodpecker he was looking at; then the sight of the downy- feathered, juvenile, white and black woodpecker drumming for breakfast on a dead arm of a great lakeside tree. I later saw the same man on the second pass, walking away from the area, and I got a profound sense of his solitude.

A husband and wife walked their dog around the lake, and on the third pass, we exchanged pleasantries. On my last lap, someone’s feet crunched on the pathway behind me. The first other-runner of the morning, a woman, ran past. For a moment, I almost protested this by boosting my pace. Instead of focusing on her, I looked inside at the impulse to do that, and laughed. I also felt the forces of her passage, and how her presence ahead created a wake in an athletic dimension inviting me to keep pace behind her. I could feel the impulsion to lock onto her pace, keeping a static distance. It was something dynamic in the atmosphere, unique to human beings training in proximity. I resisted this pace-setting force in order to better feel it’s pull, and I have to say, there’s more to it than me, the other-runner, and our minds. The other runner’s effort, whatever pains, feedback, and adjustments were happening, were happening because of her spirit pushing herself through the air and light.

I arrived at the end of this passage of this morning run energized that the goal of re-acclimating and toughening my feet, ankles, knees, hips, lungs, and circulatory system with the simple act of running, had begun again. The first part of my weekend mileage day was complete. I am grateful for another run.

Walkers: Walk, Talk, and Java: Black Is Beautiful

walking to meet, meeting to walk...

Just the brand at hand for today’s pictures…other brands will show up too in due time. Random selection from cabinet.

You want to be fit. It’s the weekend morning, and you haven’t trained in two weeks after a virus and the next week exhausting yourself catching up at work.

The coffee fumes reach out to you like a pungent, thermal hand, melting the sand man’s sand in your eyes.

If you like weekend mornings resetting with a friend at a coffee house, here is a sequence you might memorize:

Walk. Walk to meet, or walk with your friend, loved one, or business partner to the coffee house.

Talk. Bounce your ideas around, assemble your thoughts, and plow your mental fields while a cup warms your hands.

Black. Order your coffee black if possible, and if you sweeten it, use a few drops of honey. Same with tea.

Lean. Lean forward and eat lean.

Back. Walk back home!

Spring Rain Paints the Sky and Spring Training Calls

Spring Training

Spring Training

After sifting the manuscript for my upcoming book release, I felt as if I had sifted tons of sand. I picked out mossy twigs, broken bark pieces, and rocks from what seemed like ages of writing washed up from the tossed ocean of my mind, memory and experience.

There were also broken toy pieces buried in the sand; notions or ideas I had played with before that were too automatic, too obsolete, and poorly developed to include. I could not stare at them for too long, humbled by the fact that I had not finished constructing them in the past.

That work had to be done. In delaying publication to find and discard these ideas suffering from arrested development, it took the prospect of another person examining the manuscript one more time for me to cast aside some of these self-interested ideas. To my proofreader I am most grateful.

Soon, finally, I will have news of the final title, and where the book can be found.

I am grateful that Spring training is here.