- 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 130: May 19, 2019 – May 25, 2019
|Sunday||Mowed||1-1/2 hours||Front & Back|
|Monday||30 min/mile||31:15 min:sec||1 mile|
|Tuesday||30 min/mile||31:34 min:sec||1 mile|
|Wednesday||30 min/mile||30:10 min:sec||1 mile|
|Thursday||Mowed, Trimmed, Edged, Etc.||2+ hours||Front & Back|
|Friday||30 min/mile||31:04 min:sec||1 mile|
|Saturday||30 min/mile||30:22 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: The Duke and the Dandy Highwayman (from the Trilogy) by Zakarrie C.
‘The Most High, Noble and Potent Prince, His Grace Padraic, Duke of Waterford.’
After enduring the Ducal Grand Entrance, one might be forgiven for thinking that an evening could only improve. One would be wrong. Padraic was then duty bound to find an amiable miss to romance and dance attendance upon. In truth, the Duke was rather more partial to establishments that promised charms he would ne’er find in the arms of a Lady. Such dalliances did add a dash of decadence to his life of ducal drudgery, but time was tick-tocking and a blue-stocking bride must be wooed, and wed…
Raff of the Rookeries. The most afeared rake-hell to have haunted the highways since Darkin denied them the pleasure at the gallows…by stepping off the ladder before they could whip it from under his feet. Raff had fought his way up to rule the roost with instincts as razor-sharp as his dirk. His sword skills, fists, and wily wits had stood him in good stead, but none had proved as invaluable as the weapon he’d ne’er needed to tend. His fury. A rage every bit as lethal as arsenic—deadlier than brawn, brains, or bravado—Raphael had carried it like a toxic plague. Until, he became Raff of the Rookeries. Unleashed upon the underworld, it was the most formidable foe in London.
Two men from two different worlds…a mere few miles apart. That is, until the fateful night when The Duke was halted in his tracks by a very Dandy Highwayman…
My favorite lines this week…
✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿ (Mowed, but read anyway 😁)
The Duke invariably found himself bored t’bejeezus by the time the double doors had swept open with a flourish and the herald reeled off his title:
‘The most High, Noble and Potent Prince, His Grace Padraic, Duke of Waterford.’
Padraic increasingly longed to interrupt this tedious recital and proclaim that he’d henceforth go by the moniker; Potent Padraic. One could be forgiven for thinking that an evening might look up, once he’d endured The Ducal Grand Entrance. One would be wrong.
✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿
“Now, what am I going to do with you…?” The rogue mused, lifting a forefinger to his lips in a parody of deep thought, as he drew to a halt before Padraic. The threat inherent in that phrase thrilled down the Duke’s spine, which was oh, so wrong; he should be plotting his escape or…or weaving the perfect words to ensure his prompt release. Yes, that was it.
“I-is that a rhetorical question?”
✿✿ TUESDAY ✿✿
At that precise moment in time, Padraic frankly didn’t give a fig for propriety. His fig was pickled. Packed off with his p’s and q’s and flung far from the attic. He wasn’t making much sense—even to himself—but then, every scrap he possessed appeared to be fixated on Raff’s dirk.
✿✿ WEDNESDAY ✿✿
When Raff straightened up, the Duke craned his neck around and saw that his rogue was reaching towards a table beside the bed. Padraic had ne’er noticed the crystal vial of oil nestled amidst the trinkets atop it—nor, in truth—registered the existence of those, either. There might well be an elephant darning socks in the corner, that he had yet to remark upon.
✿✿ THURSDAY ✿✿ (Was too tuckered to read, but that worked out perfectly since there only ended up being two day’s worth left in part 1 of the trilogy. 😁)
✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿
“Did you perchance bait wild boar as a youth, Yer Grace, or merely play with matches?” Raff levelled him with a scathing side-eye and an ominous purse of plush lips.
“That was a rhetorical query, methinks?”
✿✿ SATURDAY ✿✿
“Yeah?” His name brought Raff to a halt akin to being roped around the neck. He waited for Padraic to speak, as still as a figure wrought from iron, staring at flakes of blistered paint.
“I will never regret that I got lost.”
Raff pressed his forehead to the wood that would soon shut him off from a world without warmth.