Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Six
2:38 a.m.
Sunrise.
No, I do try to keep a clean home. I just need a little break now and then.
Sam’s General Store. A little bit of coffee and a flaky quiche. Random bits of information about ancient Romans. Yes, cinnamon rolls are always better warm.
I teach him how to get into the hammock again.
It feels quiet today. I like that—a slow, quiet day. I’m already imagining how I can manufacture a stay-at-home Monday.
Sometimes, it seems like there is no point.
Yellow butterflies.
Bad Poetry.
Cleaning to feel in control.
Bolognese and Chianti, garlic bread and college-talk.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Five
Can I? I definitely can’t.
He turns the key and it opens for him. I get so excited, I almost forget about the alarm.
Drip coffee
Day Zero.
The fog lifts and the sky opens up. Not thinking about emails today. Just beauty.
At the point where brain function is questionable.
Is rush hour on a Friday really the right time to teach her how to turn left onto Highway 29?
She says she likes eating at our house.
We’re at that age now.
But, I don’t think they got ice cream.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Five
Can I? No, I definitely can’t.
He turns the key, and it magically works for him. I get so excited that I almost forget about the alarm.
Drip coffee.
Day Zero.
She reminds me of another woman I know, and it makes me think that all of this is just a protective shell. But if it’s not, then I wish I had more of that.
There is really nothing this weekend?
If only we all truly believed we are on the same team.
Is this really the day and time we want to train her how to turn left into a turning lane onto Highway 29?
She says she likes eating dinner at our house.
We’re at that age now.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Three
These cool mornings.
The sound of a goat bleeting somewhere in the distance.
Hawk feather.
It always takes me longer to get here than I remember.
Is the risk worth the reward.
She asks me if there is decaf. Nope. We’re raw dogging it today.
This combination should work, but it doesn't.
I hit a half court shot. Maybe my first ever in my life. I think it is the first.
Curious. Passionate. Purposeful.
The wrong goal in the wrong situation hinders performance.
Remember: he said it would take time.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & Two
Darkness.
But then I hear the turkey, which means the sun is about to come up.
What is the right formula?
One foot in front of the other. I think of all the women who support what I’m doing. The ones who see the bigger picture.
Widowed art gallery owner.
But I don’t want it anyway.
I wanna walk and not run / I wanna skip and not fall / I wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall / I wanna be the only one for miles and miles
Maybe it’s time to get off the coffee again.
Just me and him and a whole lot of chicken and zucchini.
“Motivation is what gets you into this game; learning is what helps you continue to play; creativity is how you steer; and flow is how you turbo-boost the results beyond all rational standards and reasonable expectations.”
― The Art of Impossible: A Peak Performance Primer
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred & One
Eighteen years.
Still too dark to make my way out. Staring out the window waiting for the light.
I turn the corner and see something sticking up out of the ground. I jump because at first, I think it’s a snake. But it is actually just a big stick. I should wear my contacts on these walks.
These hurt.
First cup in the dark office.
One of those rare days when I am actually crossing things off the to-do list.
Really? It was the cheese that sent him over the edge?
Jab, jab, right, hook, uppercut.
I miss her.
All you can do is remember why you’re here in the first place. It’s always about the why.
Ten.Two Thousand, Five Hundred
Stretch.
A little bit of coffee to start the day.
I can love two things at one time. I can. Right?
I keep trying to convince myself that it’s no big deal, but I can’t seem to push it out of my mind.
Bubbles at lunch.
But not all at the same time. I should have known when she brought out fries and shrimp cocktail at the same time.
2027.
A wish.
Toasted nuts on a sundae really take it to the next level.
The layers of landscape: a valley floor covered in vines, oak trees pinned into the hillsides, mountain tops blanketed with evergreens, a hazy blue sky with a setting sun.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Nine
The first thing on my mind.
It should be a short day, though I wish it would last a little longer.
One cup of concession-stand coffee under a soupy sky.
A nap.
Rosemary Cakebread and Chris Howell.
“Beauty makes me dream.”
They make you remember one of the reasons you’re here in the first place. Because, like them, you believe that there could be and should be a future for anyone and everyone who wants to live and work here.
He tells me that I need to experience what I am experiencing now, but now I should go back to the people. He lists a few names—names I already know—and that’s where I can begin.
Margarita, salad, and steak frites with her at the bar.
Dreams.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Eight
Wait, what time is it?
Fastest paces to date.
Late, late, late. But, at least we showed up?
I tell her that it’s the passive-aggressive comments that really get to me.
You can begin the thing now and refine along the way. There is still value here, at the beginning.
Clouds parting.
I can live with the B, but I’d rather have the A.
Down to three of us. That means steak for dinner.
She’s already got t-shirt ideas. We’ll get this done right.
Grateful for a Friday that feels like a Saturday.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Seven
Just can't do it.
Another hour slips by.
A innocent mistake..
What are these cars in the parking lot? Why are the lights on? What day is today?
I finish the rest of my call with her outside. “Tell old girl I said ‘hello’” she says from across the sidewalk. I chuckle.
Run. Down.
Craving time with pen and paper and nothing else.
Not enough dreaming time.
We’re all a little less cranky today.
This quiet. This clear blue sky. This evening breeze and golden light. The rolling hills. Dried grass blowing in the wind. All you can do is stare at the horizon in awe.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Six
Tom the turkey is so loud. So, so loud.
I startle him, and he startles me as I walk around the curve. The turkey trots away into the front yard.
The art of impossible.
Maybe it’s the coffee.
Was hoping for a morning glory muffin, but will settle for the morning bun.
Nothing feels true because there is no trust.
I think these parents are taking it way more seriously than I am.
A good preview of what’s to come.
A box full of vegetables and flowers.
“The limits of my language are the limits of my world.”
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Three
Proceed as normal.
Tom the Turkey is hanging out by the car. He scurries away as he hears my footsteps.
Almost cold.
Pre-flight anxieties.
Should not have had all those liquids before the 2-hour drive to the airport.
Middle seat on the longest leg. The woman to my right is working in Figma. The woman on my left is watching “Vampire Diaries.” I’m trying to take notes about burnout.
Airplane coffee and Biscoff cookies.
He says something about my two phones. But my weekends are much more peaceful.
I tell her it’s been about four months since I’ve seen rain.
Humidity and cigarette smoke. Two things I don’t really ever feel or smell much these days.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Three
2:45 a.m.
I stand on my tiptoes to watch them snake through the line. That’s it. They’re on their way now.
I could go back to sleep, or I could just go on about the day as normal. I change my clothes and put on my hiking shoes and head out.
Fox. Turkey. Three crows.
Non-time.
“Gratitude, mindfulness, exercise, and sleep are non-negotiables for peak performance.” - The Art of Impossible
I still have a hard time picturing him as a high schooler. He’s a high schooler now.
Maybe I’ll come back today.
365 days of closed rings.
Control what you can control.
I think I should stay away.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-Two
Tuesday.
The fog is low and thick, and the air is cold. I crack the window to cool the room down just enough to tempt the goosebumps.
Turkey.
I look at the clock and estimate how much time I have left before everyone else begins to arrive. I have at least 38-43 minutes. That’s enough to drink a cup of coffee and make my list, and maybe send an email or two in the dark quiet.
Meeting. Meeting. Meeting. Meeting. Do I want to be in this meeting? No. Please, no. Meeting.
I bring my notebook with me because I want to write my down my thoughts—to go from gap to gain.
Glass of Schramsberg Brut Rosé. Fritto misto.
Fourth Quarter Mind.
The weather is so perfect. So perfect that you can’t help but feel grateful. So perfect that you just want to close your eyes, tilt your head up toward the sun, and spread your arms wide as the breeze silks its way across your skin.
Tomorrow, they leave. And then the day after, I leave.
Egregious.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety-One
A good and deep stretch is exactly what I needed.
Trip prep.
I check my phone. Nothing from him. That’s a good thing. Hopefully, it means that he actually rested.
How many books can I fit in my bag? Should I pack any at all? Just a notebook? My journal?
Three carnitas in the shade.
I sit along the edge of the pool and drink a little bit of the pink elephant as I tilt my face towards the sun.
She says the word firecracker and I chuckle.
The smell of hair day.
Am I ready? Yes, and no.
31 days.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Ninety
The glory of no alarm.
Another day, another gym.
The vulnerability of the ask.
One of the boxes in AAU Bingo: Refs shooting 3’s at timeouts.
But the drive is scenic along this part of the highway. All you see around you is rolling green hills covered in vines and a blue sky—a real life painting.
We find the right channel to watch the Ole Miss/Arizona softball game while waiting for more results.
Slow and long and yet, still.
We’ve somehow lost the connection between hard work and the reward.
The eggs are gone. All of them. I look around my feet for broken eggshells or some other evidence of their removal. But there is nothing. Just an empty nest.
Unprepared?
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Nine
Foggy morning.
Peony petals littering the dining room table.
The school is tucked inside a neighborhood at the base of a big green hill. The campus is so big that they have a map on display. I think about how all of my schools were single-building institutions. They don’t know how lucky they are to have fresh air.
New gym. Half a hot dog, raisins, empty cans of yerba mate, candy.
Knowing when to stop.
Capitalize on the energy.
I buy the marshmallows and crispy rice cereal so they can make themselves a treat, but really, I want a Rice Krispies treat for myself.
I tell him that I’m not trying to compare, but these are the things I’ve done today, and all I’m asking is for the dishes to be done.
80. What?
Live into it.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Eight
Late start, but I can still see the moon.
Feather finder.
This is out last session. She asks me what insights I have gained through this process. I tell her it felt good to say, “I no longer want this.” Now, I have given myself permission to move on.
Always dodging the sunlight when on these Zoom calls.
Everyone has their own path.
I'm missing the depth.
2022 Bodega Chacra 'Barda' Pinot Noir. The fries are still good, but the burgers are not the same. “A square cut of cake?” I say. “She would never.”
Really, truly out of office.
No. I really don't want to go.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Seven
Breakfast club.
There’s always this stretch of morning—right around the time when the day begins to break—when the birdsong is so loud I can barely hear my audiobook.
Swath of golden light on the peonies and the painting. Stops my breath.
Waiting and waiting and waiting.
Remember that you can just take a walk.
Kids PB & J and a container of fruit. A little heavy on the J today.
The echo of the ball in an empty gym. This hour is my own. Thinking while also trying not to think.
Of course, I feel compelled to clean and reorganize the fridge instead of reading two chapters for Psych, writing that email, and sending that letter.
Leftovers.
She asks if I’m ready for Yosemite. Ready? No. Excited? Yes. But, definitely not ready.
Ten.Two Thousand, Four Hundred & Eighty-Five
A little stumble over the speed bump. A little blood on my hand. Why is there even a speedbump here?
Breakfast club.
Zone of Excellence or Zone of Genius?
Frequent glances at the inside of my wrist. Ready for another one.
I look at her, smile, and quietly whisper, “I can’t do this right now.”
A lot of laughter in here today. That’s a good thing.
Dry turkey burgers.
Birkenstocks slapping against the asphalt. The smell of jasmine wafting through the air. Confused by all of the mulch they’re spreading. This house and its white cars.
This time of year, during these games, brings out familiar faces.
38