Two miles this morning, in the second consecutive day warm enough to run without my hoodie. I was making pretty good time till something in my right Achilles tendon tweaked, just a little, but I didn’t force the issue and limped, then walked plainly home. It hasn’t bothered me since, so I suppose I didn’t damage anything. Fruit and coffee, shower, Morning Prayer, then home for a second mug and to begin my working day.
Both yesterday and today — and after having spent more time reading than has been usual — I’ve found the magic aquifer from which issues fluent writing, and I’ve made a significant start (with momentum) for an overdue essay. Take increased reading (for stirring up ideas and remembering how people who write put sentences and paragraphs together), add some sermon composition (for practice in writing short, occasional prose pieces) and my typing fingers, my writing hands have limbered up and resumed the activity that once came so readily to them. If I can just preserve that impetus for another eight pages or so, I’ll be in great shape, and will be free to push on toward the second overdue essay I’m trying to clear this summer. If I can manage that, it’s clear sailing to start composing my book manuscript, the last book I plan on writing and the one I feel the need to get into print before I die or succumb to dotage.
But for the moment, even just my current good start thrills me and reminds me that there’s something worthwhile that I can contribute. It sparks joy, as I believe we’ve been taught to say.