I’m in a phase of being tempted, day on day, to skip my morning run. I haven’t missed a day for weeks; I exercise from a sense of obligation rather than any enjoyment (though I don’t actually viscerally dislike running as much as I used to); and I can imagine a sense of relaxed enjoyment consequent upon taking a morning with no exertion. On the other hand, the point of daily exercise is indeed to do it, and the experience no longer burdens me as it used to. More decisively, it has become part of my routine (and sustains my health), so after considering the possibility of skipping my run, I put on my socks and trainers and ventured out into the clear, cold (9°), high-pollen morning and ran my mile. 9:21, but I did stop midway, so take that into account. Morning Office, fruit breakfast, and on to the day.
The day passed with reading about ‘miracles’ in antiquity and rereading (and re-rereading) the Epistle of James, looking into Anglican biblical hermeneutics outwith the England-US axis, along with musings toward my sermon. That made for a pleasant and moderately productive afternoon. Margaret had a business late afternoon and evening, so we watched another episode of Before We Die early, and I finished up my viewing of Frankie Boyle’s Tour of Scotland and turned in.