- Get on the treadmill (or equivalent exercise) daily
- Pace is fine at 30 min/mile, although I may up it on occasion
- Time range between 30 minutes and 1 hour per day
- Distance 1-2 miles per day
- Read the chosen book, which I won’t allow myself to read outside of my treadmill time, hopefully motivating me to reach or exceed the above goals (exception…at the end of the week where a book is highlighted, I will finish it off-treadmill so I can feature something new the next week)
Week 88: July 29, 2018 – August 4, 2018
|Sunday||30 min/mile||30:05 min:sec||1 mile|
|Monday||30 min/mile||30:42 min:sec||1 mile|
|Tuesday||30 min/mile||31:06 min:sec||1 mile|
|Wednesday||30 min/mile||30:59 min:sec||1 mile|
|Thursday||30 min/mile||30:31 min:sec||1 mile|
|Friday||30 min/mile||33:13 min:sec||1.1 miles|
|Saturday||30 min/mile||30:10 min:sec||1 mile|
What I’m Reading
Note: Although I will try to avoid them, my weekly reading snippets may or may not contain spoilers, so read at your own risk.
What I #amreading: Midnight in Berlin by J.L. Merrow
My favorite lines this week:
✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿
I wondered if I’d see my brother in whatever afterlife I was headed for. But if there was a heaven, Ben would be there for sure, and I figured my chances of ending up in the good place were pretty damn slim. Funny how making something of your life never seems a real priority until you’re about to lose it. I looked up at the house, which was big, old and tired. Shutters leaned off drunkenly like they were getting ready to jump ship, and the paint was stained with neglect. It looked like someplace Scooby Doo and the gang might stay if they ever told a vacation in the Fatherland.
✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿
I’d always wondered, you know. About guys who dug their own graves just because some asshole with a gun told them to. I mean, hell, if the bastard’s going to shoot you anyway, why go out of your way to make his life any easier? But now I knew—when you’re in that situation, you’ll do anything Because there’s this little demon called hope that keeps whispering in your ear that if you make nice with the gun-toting asshole, if you drag things out as long as you can, then maybe, just maybe, he’ll change his mind and you’ll come out of it alive.
✿✿ TUESDAY ✿✿
So I went on down the path that wound around and through the trees. And no, I couldn’t tell you what sort of trees. They were tall, and they had leaves on, okay? They had birds in them too—rustling little bastards, making me jump when they flew off, squawking like a fucking siren.
✿✿ WEDNESDAY ✿✿
Christoph gave me a long look, which pissed me off even more. “You surprise me sometimes,” was all he said.
I didn’t get it. He was the deep one, not me. Hell, if he was the Mariana Trench, I was a kiddies’ backyard pool. Suddenly restless, I scrambled to my feet and went down to look closer at the water.
✿✿ THURSDAY ✿✿
“Your loss,” I said because I couldn’t think of one single other thing to say. Apart from “Sorry,” I guess, but that would’ve been like trying to mop up the Atlantic with a paper towel.
✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿
Flower-boy tried to shake me off, but it was like a flea trying to shake off a dog. I tensed as I saw his fist clench, even though I figured there was no way pretty boy would risk those perfect incisors in a fight. Just in case, I shifted my weight, ready to roll with whatever girly little punch he put out—and then shoot on right back at him.
✿✿ SATURDAY ✿✿
“Who died and put you in charge?”
“Nobody, yet,” Christoph said in a voice heavier than a tombstone.