try to get things done, training and a few words

i am having a hard time focusing lately.  more than usual, actually.

i have a lot of things i would like to get done, but when the time comes where i find myself with time to put a dent in to the projects i’d like to work on, i find some excuse to just put it off until later.

lather, rise, repeat.

i end up becoming frustrated with myself wondering why in the world i just didn’t work on those things when i had the time to do them in the first place.

how do you combat this?

marathon training has been slow but sure.  i’m no where near the 26.2 miles i need to complete, but i am walking more and more.

i walked to the movie theater [saw shutter island] over the weekend and got in about 3 miles in doing such.  i’m hoping to get in some miles tonight as well.  we’ll see how that goes.

i’m hoping that not only will i be able to complete a marathon, but that i’ll lose some weight in the process.  i’d love to lose about thirty pounds – that’s my goal this year.

here’s a small excerpt from the short story i’m working on:

“God, how I’ve forgotten all of this shit. Hell, I don’t even remember the name of the first book of the Bible, to be sure. Genesis, was it? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters.”


He reached in to his right jacket pocket that he had repaired earlier the day before and pulled out a small gun which he had had in his possession for as long as he could care to remember. It was the same gun that his dad had used some twenty-five years earlier to kill himself, in front of his own kids.


“Yeah, I never got over that” he thought, gripping the gun tightly in his right hand, questioning if he really wanted to do what he had set his mind to earlier that night after the bars closed.


At least his dad didn’t die alone, he considered. “I’m going to die alone tonight if I can go through with this”, he said out loud, convinced at this point that it didn’t matter any more if anyone heard him or not. There was no talking him out of this, not tonight.

He looked down at his left hand where he saw his wedding band, crooked on his ring finger.  “Fuck her” he said, turning the ring on his finger.  “Like she ever gave a damn.”


He didn’t know why, but he continued to wear the ring. It wasn’t like it was a recent divorce or anything – she left him more than five years ago – an affair, with his best friend, no less.


Ouch.  “To lose your wife is one thing”, he thought, “but to lose your best friend at the same time.”  He gripped the gun tighter, his resolve strengthening with each passing breath.


i’m excited at where the story is going.  as i mentioned previously, i know how the story is going to end – it’s just going to take some time to get it to that point.

traveling mercies, friends.



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