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A short solo run today and then breakfast with new friends, who happen to live just a street away. I don’t think I’ve lived that close to a friend since I was in primary school and my friend Jenny lived just across the street. It’s so nice to have neighborhood friends, and these folks are good folks. We drank coffee and ate pastry whilst the children present designed word games that we could build.

Hit the trails after with Cacio and recorded a trial of a goofy podcast I’m thinking about starting, which is really meant for an audience of one (me) but I figure why not put it on the internet. It’ll be sort of like this journal in some ways, but in audio. Me rambling (with my mouth) whilst I ramble (with my feet). A spoken journal, or memoir, or something like that. Low stakes, just for fun.

The projects I’m gravitating towards lately are ones that I can fit into my life, and that don’t require a schedule. They don’t really need to end, but if they did end that would be just fine and might even seem natural. Could be one story or many. A one-off or a series. I like the idea of something that’s just a bit more organic, a little less structured. We have so much structure already, don’t we?

I’m sat here on a Friday evening with the dog flopped by my side on the couch, and I’m trying to find the perfect essay. I don’t even know what that means, really, but I know a perfect essay when I read it—and of course it changes all the time. It might be an essay on loss or on love, or one that makes me laugh in the way that I need to laugh right at that minute. It has to make me feel something.

I’ve never written a perfect essay and I never will, because who calls their work perfect? I’m sure the authors of the perfect essays I’ve read can spot all of the things that aren’t working. It’s a shame that we don’t get to relate to our own work in the way that others might, but maybe it’s necessary to keep doing that work. What do you do if you feel as though you have nothing to chase?

I’m trying to write an essay right now. One about being an amateur. About doing something for the love of it. It’s hard to write about the things that you love, actually, not least because you don’t always know why you love it. I love anything to do with audio, and I couldn’t really tell you why, it just makes my brain feel good. Maybe I should write about that? I’ll probably write about that.

I went for a late night run this evening. I’m impatient enough that I always jump back into running too long and too fast. I still enjoy the runs, but I don’t enjoy getting injured, and I don’t enjoy that it means taking a break. Today, I decided to reset. I wasn’t going to let my heart rate climb too high. I was just going to run easy, take my time, and feel good at the end. Unsurprisingly, it… worked.

One of the best ways to keep a conversational pace is to have a conversation, and the second best way is talking… to yourself. I’ve been talking to myself a lot lately, but it’s extra useful on runs. If I ever wonder whether I could have a conversation without huffing and puffing, I can just start talking, and not stop talking, and see how that feels. At some point (when you stop talking about running) the introspective think-speaking even gets kind of good.

Tonight I talked about publishing and recounted a few memories. I coached myself on my run out loud, reminding myself why I was running at that pace, where I wanted to get to, and how this was going to help. I’ve done that in my head before, but there’s something about the words hitting your ear that feels qualitatively different. It’s like the placebo of coaching—you know the words are coming from your mouth, but you hear them all the same.

Anyway, a proudly pathetic run. The first of many I’ll do, slowly building up to where I want to be. I love running, and I want to continue to love running, and I’m out of practice. The long roads are the best ones, even if they don’t always feel like it. I should just enjoy the fact that I’m here, and be thankful that I’m able-bodied.