Blacktop

It's good to know exactly what you can handle.  In my case, 6.47 miles at a 6 minute a mile pace on a Hike and Bike Trail that was fully paved.  I remember one summer, not too many summers ago, when I vowed to walk five miles a day, every day, while only eating 1000 calories, in a last ditch effort to lose 75 pounds.  That lasted two days, and I am pretty sure that by the end of the summer, I had gained a pound or two.  Ice cream, after all.

What I liked about last summer's bike riding was that I set small doable goals.  The first ride was 3 slow miles.  The next 3.2, maybe even slower than the first.  By the end of the summer, my last ride was a healthy 17 mile journey.  Not amazing, but miracle enough for me.  And what I liked about the last two strings of consecutive writing is that I limited the time frame for the writing.  24 days.  Then, this last time, 40.

In both cases, small repeated practice lead to two things: improvement and desire.  Not that spring's sprouting body awakening kind of desire, but a far slower, more powerful longing to do more, have more, be more.  A desire that sticks and niggles.

I cannot believe the strong affinity my fingers have for this keyboard. I cannot believe the draw I have to sit in this chair every night and record my thinking.  So, for now, I am making a vow to keep writing every day until the end of the school year.  Then, if I feel so compelled, I will re-up for another stretch of time.

And, I'm also going to promise this: I'm expecting nothing but a commitment to get my ass in the chair.  It might not be great, people.  In fact, it might be just like today's bike ride.  Slow, plodding, a little dreamy.  Along the way, I might write myself something as lovely as the blue heron I sighted, but I doubt it. I'm not shooting for the blue heron's elegance and rarity.  I'm simply staying on the writing trail, pushing the pedals round and round.  Riding on blacktop, nice and easy to start.