It's nearly midnight, and I just barely started my writing. You know the spiel: I don't feel like writing, I'm tired of this, I don't know why I ever signed up for this gig.*
I mentioned yesterday that I wanted to sit down and record myself reading one of my stories, and I read through the first one. I grabbed the second one today, and looked it over. It's "Rest Stop," which is good for a one man show, but would work best if I could film myself in the winter, reading the whole thing while surrounded by trees and snow. Maybe the cabin still has snow (I'll bet it does), and I can do this thing the first trip up there.
For the past six weeks, I've gone on a hike every Sunday. I should feel proud of myself for finding something active and healthy to look forward to every week, but I'm actually pretty ashamed that I am so utterly alone. Every other person I saw hiking or taking pictures or just sitting and vaping was with somebody else.
If you're so very entertaining, why are you on your own tonight?
I went up the trail that I got rained out of two weeks ago (was it only two weeks ago?), and admired the bright yellow rock formations as I went. There was a nice, refreshing breeze blowing too, which would have played hell with any audio I tried to record up there, but I didn't try to do a song this trip.
I got up about half a mile before I reached a closed padlocked gate, which told me the hike was over. Honestly, it had taken me a bit more than a half an hour to get to the canyon, so I was pretty disappointed that it was all over.
There are caves up at the top of the trail, but there was no way to get past the gate. Unless, I suppose, one wanted to go straight up. And hey, that might not have been an impossible idea. A stupid one, probably, but not impossible.
I weighed my options. I had taken along an old Podcastle episode (I've been listening to all the Tim Pratt Christmas shows, looking for inspiration, though I've long since finished the story I was needing inspiration for**), so I climbed up onto a big rock and sat there listening until it was done. And not a single soul came by.
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| This was my view from the rock. |
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| As selfies go, I don't really mind this one. |
Of course, once I got to the bottom (the locked gate was only a quarter of a mile or less from where I turned around last time because of the rain), I saw a sign with a bunch of prohibited activities (like alcohol and skateboards), and one said "NO RUNNING/JOGGING." So there's that.
I followed a sign marked "Nature Trail," and walked for a few minutes, but there were tons of people out camping or BBQing (and vaping), and I must admit it wasn't hikey enough for me, so I turned around and went back to the car.
I drove all the way back home, and though I tried to get some writing done, this was probably my weakest day in weeks. I started getting sleepy, and didn't know what to do. So, for the first time since this started, I went for my nightly run despite having also done my weekly hike.
And I paid for it. It was harder than usual, even though it was just the same route around the neighborhood I take every night. My side started to ache and I was gasping and lurching more than I typically do (since it's always the middle of the night when I go on my runs, I only see my shadow when I pass under a streetlamp, and I'll often watch the way my shadow looks--usually like a feeble old man, to be honest--and this night, my shadow was too close for comfort). But I made myself do it, and tried to concentrate on other things: trying to figure out what to do for cover art for my story "The Many Faces of Christmas Eve," which is ready to go, if I could only come up with an image for it.
I was surprised to find other people outside--walking, jumping on their trampoline, doing unlicensed medical experiments in their front yards--despite the late hour. And when I finally dragged my bones into the house, I felt like I had accomplished some small thing. I guess I say that all the time, but after all these decades of hating running, it'll take me a while to get used to liking it.
I did some sit-ups, which I should really do more of, but we'll see.
Sit-ups Today: 40
Sit-ups Total: 619
Words Today: (a pathetic) 384
Words In May: 16,667 (shame about that extra word. Maybe I should turn a have not into a haven't)
P.S. Why, oh why, do I post these every day?
*That reminds me: Pseudopod asked me to do another story for them. At least somebody's got taste around here, despite my brown shirt and grey pants.
**It did make me think of a Lara & the Witch story I could write, where Lara first falls in love, but is worried that Holcomb will interfere . . . or worse, what if she already has?
I followed a sign marked "Nature Trail," and walked for a few minutes, but there were tons of people out camping or BBQing (and vaping), and I must admit it wasn't hikey enough for me, so I turned around and went back to the car.
I drove all the way back home, and though I tried to get some writing done, this was probably my weakest day in weeks. I started getting sleepy, and didn't know what to do. So, for the first time since this started, I went for my nightly run despite having also done my weekly hike.
And I paid for it. It was harder than usual, even though it was just the same route around the neighborhood I take every night. My side started to ache and I was gasping and lurching more than I typically do (since it's always the middle of the night when I go on my runs, I only see my shadow when I pass under a streetlamp, and I'll often watch the way my shadow looks--usually like a feeble old man, to be honest--and this night, my shadow was too close for comfort). But I made myself do it, and tried to concentrate on other things: trying to figure out what to do for cover art for my story "The Many Faces of Christmas Eve," which is ready to go, if I could only come up with an image for it.
I was surprised to find other people outside--walking, jumping on their trampoline, doing unlicensed medical experiments in their front yards--despite the late hour. And when I finally dragged my bones into the house, I felt like I had accomplished some small thing. I guess I say that all the time, but after all these decades of hating running, it'll take me a while to get used to liking it.
I did some sit-ups, which I should really do more of, but we'll see.
Sit-ups Today: 40
Sit-ups Total: 619
Words Today: (a pathetic) 384
Words In May: 16,667 (shame about that extra word. Maybe I should turn a have not into a haven't)
P.S. Why, oh why, do I post these every day?
Day 47. Probably "Unchained Melody" by the Righteous Brothers. (a hard one--who made up these questions?)
**It did make me think of a Lara & the Witch story I could write, where Lara first falls in love, but is worried that Holcomb will interfere . . . or worse, what if she already has?
4 comments:
Do you ever get unnerved when running at night? I used to run insanely early in the morning when it was still dark (so less people would see my horrendous running style). Had a super scary experience one morning and that was my last run ever.
That is a pretty majestic selfie !
BeastV, my mother is always insisting I am going to get hit by a car running at night like I do, and when I was in Vegas in March, she royally freaked out when I went running then, thinking, I dunno, that I would be robbed of my tennis shoes or something. For me, it's become this lil addiction thing that I so look forward to, I rarely feel any fear at all.
Although there were two times I was slightly afraid. The first was when I was running around midnight or one, and I saw a guy running right toward me and my immediate thought was, "Oh, it's one of the fast zombies from 28 DAYS LATER." But he was apparently trying to get into his house before curfew or really had to pee or something, because he veered off and went into a house right before he reached me.
The other time was when I got the idea for this eyeless ghost that shows up in the story I'm writing now, that Mason would be on the phone and casually glance over and the ghost is just standing there, staring at him, despite having gaping black holes where its eyes should be. It came to me while I was running, and I have to admit that it made me run a little faster because the image freaked me out.
Maybe that's not what you're asking, though. You're a woman, and there are obviously reasons a woman would be afraid to go running alone when it's dark. A shame, that.
I'm big, fat, ugly, and mean. Anyone with criminal intent would probably feel sorry for me if they saw me run. Definitely more concerned about the eyeless ghosts behind every trash can and parked car. My last run involved a dark wooded area, mystery rocks, and a poorly placed cow. Looking back, I may have a morsel of regret for screaming in a cow's face....well, maybe not.
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