The Long Run

THE BARGAIN

THE BARGAIN

The chemo ward is open on Labor Day, which is probably a good thing for my cross country teams. I might have said some things I regretted, were I with them at this morning's practice. Instead, I'm here with Callie while they go through an early morning workout on our league course. It's going to be hot today so it's important to get it done early. That, and the fact that Central Park in Huntington Beach will soon be overrun by all manner of picnickers, including a volleyball league fond of setting up their nets right in the middle of our course.

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SCATTERED

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SCATTERED

"I read your blog," Calene told me the other day. This is news. Callie doesn't read my books and doesn't always venture into this space. It goes with the territory. Jerry Seinfeld says his wife doesn't think he's funny. Author's wives don't need to read our stuff because we (at least me) download about it verbally all the time.

"What'd you think?"

"It sounded scattered. Like the way you've been acting lately."

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SOCIALS

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SOCIALS

I've got a Twitter account. I still can't call it X with a straight face. Ideally, if I'm trying to sell a book or build a following, it seems there should be a singular theme to what I post. Look at Three Year Letterman's satire or Amy Lofgren's ongoing crusade. But my feed is a random emotional purge, sometimes happy and sometimes funny and very often angry when I mean to be funny.

DOWN TIME

DOWN TIME

I spent the afternoon cleaning the algae from my backyard fountain. Bought a Shop-Vac for a criminally low price, drained the water, scrubbed the green stuff that has been building since the heat wave began a month ago. Planted two sunflowers in the front raised bed. Their height gives the garden a look more in keeping with the elevated location. Watched Wimbledon yesterday and today. Did a Matt Wilpers ride on Peloton. Walked Sadie. Went to church….

THE 10,000

THE 10,000

I'm coming to the end of the running book. Two chapters to go. Maybe three. They seem to sprout organically. Maybe about 10,000 words, max. Weird things happen so close to the finish line. Sentences and words from a few hundred pages appear to me in the night, demanding I add a sharp fact or witty clarification. I pull out the Notes app on my phone and write them down then go back to sleep. But mostly I want to slow the pace and enjoy the last days of this project.

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A KEEPER

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A KEEPER

I got on the subject of coaches wives with my good friend Sean Zeitler this morning. Coaching is such an all-consuming passion that not only do we spend countless hours obsessing about the athletic performances of other people's children, we bring it home. It becomes dinner table conversation, morning coffee conversation, and one of those narratives that always lingers in our subconscious waiting to launch into a discussion.

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OUT ON A LIMB

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OUT ON A LIMB

Woke up this morning feeling very good about The Long Run. Last Saturday I had lunch with a good friend who was a mover and shaker in the running business. He pointed me down a new line of inquiry for the book — one so novel and out of nowhere that I couldn't wait to weave it into the text. At last, after months laboring to separate fact from legend, a clear path forward.