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Treadmill Goals/Tracking

• 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 101: October 28, 2018 – November 3, 2018

DAY	PACE	TIME	DISTANCE
Sunday	30 min/mile	31:16 min:sec	1 mile
Monday	30 min/mile	30:11 min:sec	1 mile
Tuesday	30 min/mile	31:30 min:sec	1 mile
Wednesday	30 min/mile	31:33 min:sec	1 mile
Thursday	30 min/mile	30:57 min:sec	1 mile
Friday	30 min/mile	30:19 min:sec	1 mile
Saturday	30 min/mile	30:20 min:sec	1 mile

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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: Balls Up (Blowing It – book 2) by Kate Aaron

My favorite lines this week:

✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿

I stretched languidly, using the wall for leverage. I didn’t miss the way his breath caught as he watched, and may have flexed a little more than necessary to see his reaction. Muscles popped along my spine, and I groaned in contentment. “I don’t know what’s up with me at the moment,” I said when I was done putting on a show. “I could sleep for England.”

✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿

I drank my coffee and watched him, thinking about the column I’d read. Like most of the others I’d seen, the article speculated about the sexuality of my characters. Not an unfair question to ask, I grudgingly admitted, but it still galled that they assumed a gay author would write about gay characters. Yet, wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? So did I really have the right to complain about an assumption which was one day going to be proven correct? Was I really that transparent, or was that what all of us who created art did? We only ever understood the world through our own filters.

✿✿ TUESDAY ✿✿

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, concern making him frown. “You’ve been awfully quiet this morning.”

“Just tired,” I said, trying to be reassuring. “I didn’t realise there were two six o’clocks in the day.”

✿✿ WEDNESDAY ✿✿

He wasn’t my regular GP, but as I hadn’t seen the elusive Dr. Schofield since I’d first registered with the practice, that didn’t concern me. He rose to shake my hand, his warm smile going a long way towards putting me at ease.

“Mr. Barnes?” he asked, looking at the screen of his aging PC.

“Owen, please.” In five minutes’ time, the bloke was going to be fondling my balls. He could at least call me by my first name.

✿✿ THURSDAY ✿✿

The bathroom door opened and a cloud of steam filled the small hall as Magnus emerged, freshly shaved, walking stiffly in his doctored jeans, a towel around his neck and his hair still damp.

“Damn,” Ryan muttered, and I dug my elbow into his ribs.

“You’ve got your own,” I said with a smirk as he rubbed the spot.

“Let me know if you ever want to swap.”

“Pervert.”

“God, yes.”

✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿

My eyes stung, and I pinched the bridge of my nose, but I couldn’t stop a tear from slipping out. I wanted to make it stop, get off the ride and find my feet again. I wanted to go home. I wanted Magnus and Ryan with me. I wanted my mum. Another tear leaked through my fingers, and I covered my face with my hands, breathing through my mouth to hide the sound of my ragged breaths. I was scared and alone and lonely and scared. What if the operation went wrong? What if the cancer had already spread? What if, what if, what if.

✿✿ SATURDAY ✿✿

The blistering summer of the previous year seemed a long time ago: another life, another city. This was the London of Dickens and Woolf, of fog and rime and ice skating on the frozen Thames.