My two miles this morning went at a more measured pace than the last two mornings, but it looks as though I’m continuing to improve because a five-day rolling average just knocks off the oldest time — in this case, the second or third day I was running to a timer. I was still pretty rusty back on Sunday (!), so although today’s time was nothing special, it still lowers the rolling average because it was better than Sunday’s. Isn’t math wonderful?
So the appearance that I’m still running faster encourages me even though the actual fact of this morning’s run would oblige me to admit that my time wasn’t great. Similarly… no, I suppose it’s not similar. Judge for yourself: Since Christmastime, when I had a sermon spree and preached often over the course of five days, my preaching well has run dryer than is comfortable. I don’t think I’ve done a bad job of it — people have been pleasant and agreeable about my homilies — but I feel like the sort of band whose first album might have been very good, and their second album was all right (especially in the reflected glory of the first), and their third seemed to be coasting… I’m straining more to kindle my imagination for preaching.
Now, be it admitted that in the absence of a Team Rector (and temporarily, of a Team Vicar as well), I’ve been kept very busy with pastoral tasks that might otherwise not fall to me. And my half-time role has swollen to a scale uncomfortably close to full-time. I did a tiny bit of academic writing this week also, and marking for essays. Still, Sunday sermons are possibly the most important task for my imagination week-on-week, and it’s frustrating that I feel less well-resourced to compose them.
Again, not a ‘pity me’ plea; strictly an observation about myself, my situation, and my energies. All of which demand that I return my attention to tomorrow’s homily for St Michael’s.
