- 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 138: July 14, 2019 – July 20, 2019
|Sunday||30 min/mile||31:01 min:sec||1 mile|
|Monday||30 min/mile||31:14 min:sec||1 mile|
|Tuesday||30 min/mile||30:04 min:sec||1 mile|
|Wednesday||30 min/mile||30:16 min:sec||1 mile|
|Thursday||30 min/mile||30:05 min:sec||1 mile|
|Friday||30 min/mile||31:40 min:sec||1 mile|
|Saturday||30 min/mile||33:19 min:sec||1.1 miles|
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: Give up the Ghost (Not Dead Yet #2) by Jenn Burke
The bigger they are, the harder they maul.
Immortal not-ghost Wes Cooper and his vampire partner, Hudson Rojas, have it all—rewarding private investigation work, great friends and, most important, a love that’s endured. But ever since Wes sent a demon screaming back to the beyond, his abilities have grown overpowering and overwhelming. He’s hiding the fact that he’s losing control the best he can, but it’s hard to keep anything a secret for long when your partner’s a former cop…and especially when your partner’s a former cop who wants to move in together.
When all hell literally breaks loose in Toronto and superstrength ghosts are unleashed on Wes and his friends, he and Hudson are thrown into a case unlike any they’ve seen before. To save the city, Wes needs to harness his new power…and find some answers. But when he gets them, the solution to fix it all could mean losing everything.
My favorite lines this week…
✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿
The implications terrified me. My interactions with ghosts—as infrequent as they were—had always been under my control. What did it mean that I could see them in the living plane? And two at once? Was I about to get swarmed? Did the ghosts have a fucking metaphysical telephone to tell others that hey, here’s a guy who can help you out?
When a third ghost appeared—a bit, burly guy with an intimidatingly bushy beard—and said, “Finally,” like I was the answer to all of his prayers, I broke.
✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿
I avoided the living room, bypassing it to head into my bedroom. There, I cracked open a window, despite the below-freezing temps outside, and stuck my nose in front of it, inhaling deeply. Fresh air was what I needed to chase away this specter. There had to be fumes in the apartment from it being closed up.
Though that didn’t explain why I saw him at Hudson’s sometimes too.
✿✿ TUESDAY ✿✿
The old red brick was welcoming in the day, but with the sun fully set and wintry night blanketing the city, all that color was washed away. Safety lights sat at the corners of the building, but despite their illumination bouncing off the snow, it didn’t extend very far from the house, leaving the grounds in shadow. Two lights next to the front door gave off an inviting aura, highlighting the cheeriness of the porch. The barn was a black, hulking mass nearby.
✿✿ WEDNESDAY ✿✿
“How did you know?” I whispered when the kiss was done and I had tucked my head into his chest.
I felt the rumble of his chuckle more than heard it. “Because my Wes likes pretty things.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling. He as right. Quiet time was good, but nothing recharged me like surrounding myself with beauty and life.
✿✿ THURSDAY ✿✿
“Wes, it’s fine,” Iskander whispered. “I can see Mom another day.”
“Like hell it’s fine,” I growled. “Being bisexual is not a choice. Being a bigoted asshole is.”
Omar hopped down the ladder and turned his considerable bulk to face me. “What did you call me?”
✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t fucking look at me like that. After the day I had, I’m damn well allowed to drink.” Lifting the bottle to my lips, I proved the veracity of my words. The alcohol burned my mouth and my throat, but settled into my chest in a nice, warm ball. “You don’t get to judge me. You don’t ever get to judge me.”
✿✿ SATURDAY ✿✿
We were about to step into the subway station when Evan paused and perked up, like a hunting dog. He even tilted his head. I was about to poke him about it when he said, “Shit!” and started off down the street at a run.