"Creativity is contagious. When we spend time with other artistic people we absorb and exchange a way of thinking, a way of looking at the world," writes Rick Rubin in The Creative Act. I'm still tiptoeing through this very patient treatise. It's one of those books you read slowly and thoughtfully, not rushing through each line to better absorb each word.
I am trying to give up doom scrolling. The algorithm knows me well, sucking me in and holding my attention. I don't usually pay attention until the evening, when Callie and I are hanging out and I'm not too interested in another episode of SVU.
Doom scrolling doesn't feel toxic in the moment, but in the four nights I have avoided looking at my phone I've slept better. No anxious 3 am wakeup, no need to take deep calming breaths in the darkness. I often lie there and wonder what I'm worried about and have absolutely no answer.
I left the meet at 11 p.m. Long, solitary walk to the farthest realm of the parking lot. Footsore from 17,000 steps. Hungry. Thirsty. Satisfied.
Woodbridge is the biggest high school cross country meet in the country — some 16,000 runners strong. Fifty-two races spread over two nights. The best runners in America. Flood lights, drum lines loud as beating hearts, pure unmitigated speed. Food trucks, hundred thousand spectators, subdivision of team canopies lining the course. Woodbridge is Disneyland, the happiest place on earth for runners who've trained in solitude through a long hot summer….
The chemo ward is open on Labor Day, which is probably a good thing for my cross country teams. I might have said some things I regretted, were I with them at this morning's practice. Instead, I'm here with Callie while they go through an early morning workout on our league course. It's going to be hot today so it's important to get it done early. That, and the fact that Central Park in Huntington Beach will soon be overrun by all manner of picnickers, including a volleyball league fond of setting up their nets right in the middle of our course.
Sorry the blog's a little late this week. Sunday was a road trip and Monday was an intense writing session. My editor correctly saw the need for three well-placed new chapters for The Long Run. Between morning and afternoon practice I found a sweet groove and wrote those chapters in one sitting. That's a lot.
Mammoth training camp starts one week from today. I normally leave a few days early to check out the trails and get settled. This year I'm leaving on Sunday morning, same as the team. Good friend Jim Poettgen is celebrating a big birthday and I'd like to stick around RSM long enough to wish him well before making the drive to the mountains.
I got on the subject of coaches wives with my good friend Sean Zeitler this morning. Coaching is such an all-consuming passion that not only do we spend countless hours obsessing about the athletic performances of other people's children, we bring it home. It becomes dinner table conversation, morning coffee conversation, and one of those narratives that always lingers in our subconscious waiting to launch into a discussion.
Taking Midway comes out tomorrow. I almost forgot. I mean, not really. I get paid on publication, which makes it worth remembering. It's getting great reviews. Also nice. But almost a year has passed since I finished. That's the nature of this game. You write a book. Make it the best you can. Then wait and wait and wait until it goes into stores.
That's not why May 20 crept up on me…
