Sunday, December 4
Catch The Fall
'Tis an unseasonably warm December day, and from brunch we've to coffee shop / bakery gone, words and grammar and sumbissions and student help ahead. She's working through a student essay - how easily I've pawned off that particular work! - and I've these words to compile, student texts to answer. Logarithmic transformations are hard, if you didn't know, and how they'll struggle, but the rewards I think are greater when they'll come at such a cost. Stickier the glue may be, the more valiant the effort made. Perhaps?
There's this table beside us as we work, two young women studying their chemistry and psychology, and I'm near enough certain I've seen them before, at the college. More certain am I, though, that they've some of these pieces still incorrect; I overhear them work through valence shells and wavelengths (350-800 nanometers? Is that violet to red?), a tangent to string theory besides, and so tempted am I to interrupt their errors, correct them, set their study straight. Finals are coming, don't you know - one more week of classes, then the tests - and stress levels build, build, build. I'm tempted to place bets on which students are most likely to meltdown, but am trying to be a better man than that.
Maybe I'll drink before work instead. (Joke, guys. I promise. Maybe.)
Training's begun in earnest again, these miles climbing and piling, nine atop seven atop twelve. Seems the twelve-hour attempt Halloween weekend's proven enough to put my ass in gear once more, and I've these goals - 50k's in the spring! I'll be competitive again! (Maybe?) - and long runs will each weekend, when I've both time and light, abound. Each weekend, it seems, I'll find ways to punish myself further and farther and faster. Now, a full month back in, the fatigue's a baseline rather than anomaly, the cloak I find myself most comfortable. Mornings are better when it's a fall from bed, rather than grace, and in this aches I find I like myself best.
Anyways: it's miles of trials, trials of miles, I tell myself, miles of trials, trials of miles.
The holidays've fallen upon us in earnest now, this the season of Halloween - birthday - Turkeyday - birthday - Giftmas - birthday - birthday. One year fades, and another on the horizon looms. I've this Christmas trip planned, another potential trip just after. A family I'll meet, a brother I'll hope to catch. Most often, it seems, I continue to miss.
Or: some things are as much literal as metaphorical, and it seems this'll be the time of year I've the hardest time telling the difference. What was, may be... or it may be no longer. Neti, neti, I think, and wonder at the rituals, rites and phrases we each find comfort in. Words, I think - and how they may be both empty and full.
Anyways, we've all some catching up to do, probably.