- 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 93: September 2, 2018 – September 8, 2018
|Sunday||30 min/mile||30:20 min:sec||1 mile|
|Monday||30 min/mile||30:14 min:sec||1 mile|
|Tuesday||30 min/mile||30:37 min:sec||1 mile|
|Wednesday||30 min/mile||30:10 min:sec||1 mile|
|Thursday||30 min/mile||30:05 min:sec||1 mile|
|Friday||30 min/mile||30:41 min:sec||1 mile|
|Saturday||30 min/mile||30:23 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: Love at First Hate (Porthkennack #11 / Roscarrock #3) by J.L. Merrow
My favorite lines this week:
✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿
He couldn’t face the stars, so he dragged himself to his study and sank into the comfortable chair by the hearth, its familiar red leather hardly more worn now than when Father had used to sit in it. Unlike the desk chair, which he’d had reupholstered twice since then.
✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿
Sam sat down heavily on the bed, which creaked to remind him it wasn’t as young as it’d used to be and probably ought to be treated with more respect. He hoped Mal and Jory’s bed was in better nick. Lying awake at night listening to the rhythmic creaking of them shagging would just be the icing on the cake.
✿✿ TUESDAY ✿✿
It was a bit awkward, being here on his own with Mal. Sam kept wanting to apologise again for putting him out, but if he did that, Mal would have to go on saying it wasn’t a problem and they’d be stuck in an eternal loop of politeness.
✿✿ WEDNESDAY ✿✿
“We’re fine, both of us. How’s your hip?”
“Buggered as ever. Excuse my French,” she added to Sam with a roguish look.
“Medieval Latin, innit?” he said innocently.
She snorted. “I like a chap who knows his etymology. You know, I’ve wanted to do an exhibit on that for years. The Anglo-Saxons Didn’t, Actually, Have a Word for It, or some such. The school kids would love it. Just can’t think of how to tie it into the castle. Or get it past certain people,” she added with a significant look at Jory.
✿✿ THURSDAY ✿✿
When, at length, they reached Roscarrock House, Bran paid the taxi driver his exorbitant fee, added an undeserved tip because, while he hoped he’d never see the man again, he’d be damned if he’d let the Roscarrock name become a byword for tightfistedness, and trudged into the house.
✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿
Sam wasn’t much into sci-fi, but a mate had once made him sit through as many episodes of Lost in Space as they could fit into one beer-soaked weekend, which was probably why he had Danger, Will Robinson blaring through his brain right now. “Well, there’s no question he was a brilliant military campaigner from an early age.”
✿✿ SATURDAY ✿✿
“I want to apologise,” Sam said before Bran could utter a word. “I was out of line.”
That, of all things, seemed to throw Bran off-balance. After a moment, the tension seemed to leave his body. Odd, how much younger it made him look. How old must he be, anyway, from what Jory had said? Forty-one? Forty-two? Right now you could knock ten years off that. He’d probably always looked young for his age, and with his relatively short stature, Sam guessed that had been more of a burden than a blessing.