Wednesday, June 19, 2013 Days until the Death Race: 2
Part of me wishes I could put on the backpack and start rucking through the night right now, to take the waiting out of it. Waiting is worth than Death (Race) itself.
Tonight we had we-love-you-no-matter-what-please-don’t-die girls night out. It was an awesome distraction.
Thursday, June 20, 2013 Days until the Death Race: 1
I don’t know if I truly believe in my ability to finish, my ability to not quit. This is not an Ultra Beast, where there’s an easy way out once between laps. Instead, you can quit whenever you want.
Quitting is an option from the very beginning.
It’s hanging over your head. It taps you on the shoulder. First, gently. Then, more insistently. Finally, it slaps you across the cheek, punches you in the face, hits you over the head, shoves you into the wall. Quit. Quit. QUIT!
It’s way too loud in my head. I sit down with a latte and a muffin at one of my favorite coffeeshop/bookstores, and consider my options for various calming mechanisms. Sugar coma? Meditation? Chamomile tea? Anti-anxiety meds? Marijuana? Full anesthesia?
I’m separated from the baristas with two large bookshelves and I skim the titles, pausing at the ones I’ve read. Robinson Crusoe. MacBeth. James Herriott’s Dog Stories. The Ultimate Weight Solution by Dr. Phil (seriously?).
The usually quiet coffee shop is overrun by conference attendees. Despite the loud chatter, my mind quiets down. I’m surrounded by some of my most favorite things in the world – books, coffee, and writing.
I get up and go searching for a poem. Not sure what poem. Not sure why. But I need a poem…
Finally, I find it.
* “Death Be Not Proud” was written by John Donne around 1610.