On Missing The Naked Bike Race

For a moment I entertained a glum thought when asked if my weekend plans included a visit to Fremont. See, it's the Solstice weekend, including a parade and the Legendary Naked Bike Race.

And, hey, while I was there I could also visit one of Fremont's microbreweries or...

The idea of seeing a few hundred nudies on bikes doesn't really float my boat. And I no longer drink. But I entertained the glum thought nonetheless, thinking back on my more adventurous life years ago.

I hope adventures still await.  Along with a good deal more money. But once the glum thought took its leave, after a stern mental boot to its butt, I looked forward to the quieter adventures of this weekend:

--The continued fight against ageism as I attempt to change jobs before my office moves to Renton.
--The slow, demanding work of typing the first draft of my WIP.
--The scores of challenges involved in producing a spin-off from an established series.
--The daily task of staying true to a demanding new eating plan
--The weekly task of adhering to a rougher, more strategic workout regimen

I know, I know. That sounds boring to you. And, for all I know, it may well be.

But there are internal adventures, as challenging and thrilling, as climbing the Alps. Or engaging in a cage fight with a bruiser twice your size. Staying sober, getting thinner, completing a tricky new book...To my changed way of thinking, these are at least as cool and worthwhile as watching naked bods on bikes.

But nowhere near, I'll still admit, mud wrestling with a goddess. 

Back to work. My mind's clear if not clean.

When You're Hot But Your Life Has a Headache

We've all been there, so we know what it's like. You're in an overheated state...but your partner has a headache or isn't the mood.

Your partner's not the only one. Sometimes the lifeforce behaves like that too. You're halfway through that novel you'd wanted to write for so long...you've written 1000 words every day...and you see yourself completing it--when suddenly, one day just like any other, the force says 'Sorry, baby, but I've got a terrible headache. I can't.'

Or you've gone three whole months without smoking...your lungs are clean...you feel so fine...you've beaten the worst of withdrawal, you know--when suddenly, one day just like any other, the force says, 'Be an angel. Just this once. I can't tonight.'

Or you've gone a whole year without sugar or meat--when suddenly, one day just like any other...




Falling off the wagon usually refers to addiction. But we can also relapse from any new habit we've struggled to form. The mischief begins with a headache of will--a plaintive expression of pain or fatigue. Then, with astonishing swiftness, the will's headache becomes a condition--and the very force of habit that had kept us going blocks us from returning more easily each day. Soon we can't imagine ever getting back into the mood.




I relapsed from working out for half of January. I blamed the best of headaches: writing deadlines that I had to meet. But the two or three day break from fitness turned into a couple of weeks and I began to wonder if I could ever return to the gym. I knew a month off would undo me. And yet...I simply couldn't go back.

Not until...One day like any other day I heard a voice say to the lifeforce that had such a terrible headache:  "Hey, you just lie there and get well. I don't want what you don't want."
    --Really? That's so sweet of you!
"Sure. I'll just go off to the corner to satisfy my unspeakable cravings."
  --You wouldn't!
"Close your eyes, dear, and ignore me. I'll do a few light sets of pushups--"
  --You swine!
"--and thirty, forty situps--"
 --Disgusting degenerate!
"--and I'll sign off with few dozen crunches."
   Oh! Oh! Monstrous beast!

 The game only needed a couple of days to get my juices going and prime my muscle memory. On the third day I returned to the gym as if I'd never left it.

And the moral, for me, of this true tale is this: never argue with, or fight against, a partner or lifeforce with a headache. Give them a dear hug while wishing them well...then go off to the corner to do what you can to outfox the damnable headache. Forget what you can't do and do what you can. If you can't write 2000 words, then write 200 or 20. Write a blog or a string of cool Tweets. Feed your craving sips of soup in the in the form of the actions you can take. And feel your confidence come home.


You'll be surprised at how quickly that nasty headache disappears.

The Thousand: My Secret Weapon

In November, 2013 I found a 'secret weapon' that has put some old foes in the ground: doubt, fear, insecurity. I promised to tell you about it someday--and now, seven months later, I'll tell you about the weapon that I call The Thousand.

I've already written many times of my fondness for Moleskine notebooks--for my writing and my personal logs.



But the one Moleskine containing The Thousand stands in a league of its own. It is compact and it has legs: this single 3.5" x 5.5" Moleskine will last me one full year because of the format I've chosen.

The Thousand, I'd decided, would help to keep me on course and reinforce my goals. Each day I would record one thing accomplished on each of three fronts: A for Accounting or career/business concerns...P for Priest or matters of discipline or spirit, diet or exercise, more purity in writing...E for Entertainer or actions taken to reinforce my online presence as a lively presence, also steps taken to accordingly alter my appearance.

As you see, I allowed for flexibility. But my goal was stern and solid: three significant things accomplished--not tasks such as doing the laundry. And if I missed on any one day, I would double up the next: two things on each front.

Believe me, doing this is harder than it sounds. The temptation is always present to put down on any old damned thing instead of breaking new ground. I've missed entries, in seven months, a total of three times--and I regard those as serious dings. But simply becoming aware of the dings and the temptation to nod off has strengthened my resolve.

At year's end, I'll write a full review of The Thousand--where I fell short and where I flew high. Today I can tell you that through the practice of The Thousand I:
--Rallied from the loss of a finished novel, rewriting it completely from an ancient second draft.
--Found a needed part-time job.
--Decided to move to Seattle this fall.
--Made a bold financial move that freed me from the need to work two jobs and paved the way for a cross-country move in greater comfort and style.
--Launched a second blog chronicling the move.
--Completed rewriting the lost novel, with plans to launch it July.
--Began circuit training at the gym to whip myself into West Coast shape.
--Began the months-long process of preparing for the move: trashing junk, clearing a jungle of personal papers, condensing a closet of clothes to a neatly packed steamer trunk.

I swear by The Thousand and urge you to give it a try.