TREADMILL Week 158 & What I #AmReading – The Fool by Gordon Phillips

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. I’m officially modifying my original rule of not reading the book-of-the-week off-treadmill. I’m usually going to look at length and try to divide it up somewhat evenly per day, even if that means either closing that book early (if it’s short) or continuing after (if it’s long).

Week 158: December 1, 2019 – December 7, 2019

Sunday 30 min/mile 30:04 min:sec 1 mile
Monday 30 min/mile 30:10 min:sec 1 mile
Tuesday 30 min/mile 30:37 min:sec 1 mile
Wednesday 30 min/mile 30:09 min:sec 1 mile
Thursday 30 min/mile 30:34 min:sec 1 mile
Friday 30 min/mile 30:26 min:sec 1 mile
Saturday 30 min/mile 30:19 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 Fool by Gordon Phillips

Keith, single and in his thirties, is given a paid tarot reading session with a top psychic for his birthday. Unexpectedly, after the Lovers card is drawn, the reading produces four nines in a row, which the psychic says is a strong message from the universe. To find love, Keith must keep his eyes open for occurrences of nine.

On his way to meet up with his friend George, Keith meets George’s friend Zvika, someone he has always found unnerving. As Keith also gets to know Zvika, though, he finds himself drawn to the enigmatic man. But they are unalike, and while opposites might attract, can they live happily ever after? Is the persistent number nine a problem or a solution?

My favorite lines this week…

✿✿ SUNDAY ✿✿

A minute later I was standing outside, on the sidewalk in front of the house. Blinking, I stood there, feeling strangely disembodied somehow. I frowned and looked darkly at the sign, shaking my head. I snorted and started to walk away, with an air of putting all that nonsense behind me. But after perhaps a dozen steps I stopped.

✿✿ MONDAY ✿✿

I caught the bag and hefted it. Then, examining it, I saw it was like one of those Royal Crowne whisky bags we used to keep marbles in as kids. I spread out the fabric and saw the words “Royal Crowne” stitched in gold on the fabric.

“I thought these were only purple,” I said, holding it up.

Pat, who had reseated herself, shook her head, having the slight smile she always had when she was in a position to correct someone.

“This is Royal Crowne Black—it’s a higher proof whisky—so it comes in a black bag.” Then the smile broadened. “You hold it well, though, Keith. My guess is this isn’t your first time holding a black sack in your hands.”

I laughed, though my face heated slightly. “Never one this big.”


By this point I was standing with a coffee on my balcony. Putting this down, I stretched and leaned out, cried, “Oh, universe! What are you trying to tell me?”

“What about getting a life, asshole, And maybe don’t yell your problems from your balcony?”


“Don’t you like dancing?” He seemed genuinely puzzled, like a straight acquaintance had once reacted upon discovering my lack of interest in women.

I shrugged. “I like watching dancing.”

He must have taken that in, for when we were at the club, several times I had the distinct impression that he was dancing for me. It was when he began to dance in a more teasing, provocative fashion, moving the hips and the pelvis, and orienting himself so that I would get the best view of this. He never gave himself away by looking at me, but I felt he was actually performing for me.


We both laughed, and then he did something odd and out of character, I thought. He stepped forward and kissed me on the lips. It was a gentle kiss, and it lasted only a second or so, but when he stepped back and I turned and made my way down the steps, I felt a little dizzy.

The sweetness of that kiss stayed with me all the way home. I walked home, feeling unsettled and wanting to walk off my condition. I half expected Zvika to phone me again, and I kept checking my phone for a message. But there was nothing.

✿✿ FRIDAY ✿✿

But then I looked at Zvika, and saw him looking at me. The momentary spate of introspection had passed—for him. He was his outward-looking, sunny, and innocent self again, and that I realized, was someone I could really fall for.


“I feel like a bug.” I muttered.

“What?” Zvika looked ready to laugh.

I shrugged. “Or a beetle. Just a small, dark, unattractive insect, something bent on its own petty self-interest.”

Zvika laughed this time.

“Boy!” he said. “When you take a break from judgment you make up for it afterwards, don’t you?”

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