WriteOnFightOn Training Session #20 June 22

Training Session #20 June 22

Time:

5:40 am to 6:25 am

Conditions:

Outdoor, 68 degrees

Training Maxim:

No hurry. No pause.

Training Performed:

45 minutes of consecutive walking/jogging including 10 dune climbs concluded with 50 squats.

Accomplishment:

10 dune climbs concluded with 50 squats.

Reflection:

Few the next few days I’m on vacation which means I’ll be training while on vacation.

The final 25 minutes of my training took place on the cool, soft sands of the New Jersey coast. The ocean was calm. The sky was a peaceful tumble of whites and blues. The land, the ocean, the sky were at peace with one another.  Nothing forced. No straining. No fighting. If only I could get my brain and body to do the same. If only we could find such calm in the clatter and clutter of our daily lives; we may find the peace that exists at the edge of the world.

Standing on the coast, watching the sun scale the sky, reminded me how simple life is: do, reflect, improve.

Quote I’m Thinking about Today:

“Nobody can bring you peace but yourself.”~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

From yesterday’s training session:

Excuses, like bottlecaps, are easily found and collected. They can be polished and persevered for many years. However, over time, the very rare ones maybe worth a few bucks on ebay, but most are worthless and unappealing to bidders.

Checkout Chapter 2 of my serial story “The Man with the Hole in His Brain

“He’s a writer again. His words walk a tightrope of transparency and vulnerability while attempting to maintain a masculine balance. He writes to entertain. He writes to discover truth. He writes to feel strong. He writes to fill the hole in his brain with imagination instead of hopelessness and resentment. He writes secrets he can’t tell his wife. He writes to make his father proud. He writes in case he dies young. He writes so his voice may one day comfort his children when they’re older and far from home. He writes for Ms. Baker/ Mrs. Cleary. For Fire Hydrant. For himself. Because twenty four years ago he gave up on a dream. He let an opinion dry his pen, quiet his voice. When he was a boy he let the critic win.”