Me time
I consider the time between when I wake to when I make the sandwiches for the boys' lunches, my time. It is that blissful hour when I get to write, about whatever is on my mind. Most times I collect my thoughts in the form of a blog post, hit PUBLISH, and continue on with the rest of my day. On the odd occasion I write, but don't send it out to the world. I wrote several during the great fall of former Premier Redford; I wrote one a couple of days ago. Eventually, I delete the writing and allow the thoughts, shreds of digital code, to scatter in the wind.
As we wait (again) for spring snow to fall - there is a snowfall warning for our region - I am approaching the end of my 42-day self-imposed alcohol and bread fast with increased fitness thrown in for good measure. Thanks to the companionship of Matt and Heather, my walking has increased tenfold. I've also added a physical element to my morning routine: push ups. I started with 15 and have been increasing by one each day. I did 27 this morning.
"Remember to breathe," says Heather, when she watches me pump up and down.
"I am breathing," I snap back.
Push ups were a part of my daily routine in my 20's, back in the days when I was a donut baker and in the early phase of my broadcasting career. I have vague memories of doing 50 at a time at the pinnacle of my physical strength. If I am able to maintain this pattern of adding one a day, I'll be up to 57 when I'm finished this six week adventure.
Am I losing weight? You know, I'm not completely sure. I feel better, that's for sure, which was my primary objective at the outset.
I also enjoy listening to quiet, serene, reflective music during my early morning me time. This morning it is a CD that was sent to me last night by Mike Allen (jazz saxophonist from BC). It's completely ironic and apropos that the opening track is a song called "You Must Believe In Spring". Mike's music, this time in the duo format with pianist Miles Black, has always felt like home to me, ever since I first heard him in the Keyano Rehearsal Hall. Watch for The Feel Of Life, being released in June. It's stunningly beautiful, and a great way to start the day.
My mornings are quotidian, in every sense of the word. There is a distinct pattern that repeats itself over and over again, only interrupted during travel. This is my sanctuary time, a period of peace that is an essential pillar to a productive day. It's 7:30 am, time to make sandwiches.
As we wait (again) for spring snow to fall - there is a snowfall warning for our region - I am approaching the end of my 42-day self-imposed alcohol and bread fast with increased fitness thrown in for good measure. Thanks to the companionship of Matt and Heather, my walking has increased tenfold. I've also added a physical element to my morning routine: push ups. I started with 15 and have been increasing by one each day. I did 27 this morning.
"Remember to breathe," says Heather, when she watches me pump up and down.
"I am breathing," I snap back.
Push ups were a part of my daily routine in my 20's, back in the days when I was a donut baker and in the early phase of my broadcasting career. I have vague memories of doing 50 at a time at the pinnacle of my physical strength. If I am able to maintain this pattern of adding one a day, I'll be up to 57 when I'm finished this six week adventure.
Am I losing weight? You know, I'm not completely sure. I feel better, that's for sure, which was my primary objective at the outset.
I also enjoy listening to quiet, serene, reflective music during my early morning me time. This morning it is a CD that was sent to me last night by Mike Allen (jazz saxophonist from BC). It's completely ironic and apropos that the opening track is a song called "You Must Believe In Spring". Mike's music, this time in the duo format with pianist Miles Black, has always felt like home to me, ever since I first heard him in the Keyano Rehearsal Hall. Watch for The Feel Of Life, being released in June. It's stunningly beautiful, and a great way to start the day.
My mornings are quotidian, in every sense of the word. There is a distinct pattern that repeats itself over and over again, only interrupted during travel. This is my sanctuary time, a period of peace that is an essential pillar to a productive day. It's 7:30 am, time to make sandwiches.
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