i was walking three miles a night barefoot, this was back before the rains, in the summer when there was stickers and dog poop, and then i upped the tempo. i ran half the track, about half-k, every time i caught my breath until i'd been running three or four half-k's a night, then five or six. but at night, middle of the night, i'd get up to use the bathroom, and my feet would be in excruciating pain. every muscle and bone seemed to be contracting and making it difficult to walk to the bathroom. i thought, i'll get over this, i just need more practice. at night again, i'd take off my shoes. it felt wonderful, the grass on my feet. when it was wet i'd confuse patches of mud with dog poop, but i'd take a shower when i got home.
i started running more, barefoot. pretty soon i made it all the way around the track, about 1 k, then i made it 1 1/2, almost two. i was proud of myself. i had a slow pace, but the ground didn't bother me, it felt great on my bare feet.
middle of the night, though, that was different. when i woke up i could hardly even make it to the bathroom. my feet seemed to crumple beneath me in terrible pain. i didn't have this pain when i ran; it was great. but at night, and the following day, it was hell. i was limping everywhere. and it didn't help that i wore shoes in the day. i could hardly go anywhere.
so i gave up. one weekend, i just stopped going out at night. no walking, no running, no shoes, no barefoot. i just went to bed at night, and tried to heal my poor feet. and sure enough, within a couple of days, i'd regained all five pounds that i'd lost in the previous month.
but worse than that, my entire legs started falling apart, and i was still sore. finally though, after a few days of this, i went back out. this time i took shoes, and kept them on. this time, i only walked, and if my knees hurt, i just kept going. i got back into my original equilibrium.
my daughter dropped a "rock chalk jayhawk" sign on my wall, as if to say, go kansas. so i dropped a red raider on hers and said, you let us win the football, we let you win in basketball. which is pretty much true. it's not generally close, so it's not really a rivalry.
calendar time. i'm gearing up, psychologically, to make a good one. i'm using all my dad's photography these days, and it's working well. it takes time, and i don't have time, that's why i'm gearing up, so as to make time, so as to get it done. i have to be awake at night, able to put together twelve months. then, it'll happen. i look forward to it; i'm ready.
The other thing is the poetry. i've become fanatical about it, nearing a thousand, getting a decent show for all fifty states. i now have one in each season for almost every state, i'm closing in on the last few, and i'm trying to make it so i'm no longer relying on the singletons as much; in states like california and pennsylvania, i'm adding easily, effortlessly. the usual suspects are difficult. delaware, new hampshire, maine, hawaii. what am i supposed to do? hang in there; it's looking much better.