…Of Those Days

Got up, ran two miles in chilly but dry weather, at a pace a shade better than average (rolling avg now at 21:46), coffee and a banana, edit short homily for the 8:00, shower, dress, 8:00 service, coffee in town while I work through and edit the sermon for the 11:15, then led the 11:15 service. Both services (and homilies) went fine, but on leaving St Nic’s I discovered that sleety rain had begun falling. Walked home in sleety rain, put down my bag, hung up my tweed jacket and put on my cardigan, made my lunch and am now holed up in the living room and will stay here till May.

Time Has Come Today

Ran this morning, an adequate pace. The four-day rolling average for these timed days is 21:49 for two miles: nothing noteworthy, but it’s this pace that I’ll be trying to improve.
Delicious shower — why are some showers more satisfactory than others, when the shower itself is exactly the same? I just made and ate a wonderful hot breakfast, and now I’m about to turn to tomorrow’s sermon.

Drink

For most of my adult life, I had an occasional glass of wine at dinner, or a bottle of beer with my burrito or burger, but really didn’t drink much at all. That changed dramatically when we moved to Glasgow, where it was common for friends to gather at the local (one of the locals) (one of the many locals) after work and have a round or two, share some chips, banter and process our working day. Those were lovely, lovely days, and only very rarely did anyone drink too much, at least as far as conventional definitions of social drinking are concerned.

When we moved to Oxford, our drinking pattern changed. We weren’t friends with a cluster of mates who stopped by a pub on our way home from work; and we lived at the college where we taught, so we didn’t pass any pubs on our way home. We did go to dinner at colleges from time to time, and there we did drink more than usual for our Oxford days. On those occasions, I sail closer to ‘too much’, though not enough to give myself a hangover (to take one measure); it’s been ages since I had a hangover, possibly as far back as Evanston days. [Correction — I just remembered a night out at a gin tasting with Meg, on which occasion I definitely got drunk, although not so much that I had a hangover on the next morning — just moved slowly and gently.] But we have gotten into the habit of having a glass of wine (or in my case, a bottle of ale) with dinner. Wine and ale are tasty complements to meals, and they do have a relaxing effect, and this is all pleasant.

But my dear friend Julie Kaufman linked to the recent medical research that emphasises that any drinking at all increases the risk of cancer. Now, I take Julie seriously all the time anyway, but this struck me as especially pertinent as I have begun reorienting my daily life toward healthier choices (like running in the morning, and trying to reduce a bit). I’ve gotten to an age where I’m near the age at which my father died, entering the neighbourhood of an average male life span. I might as well take some steps toward stalling that consummation, so I’ve begun, modestly, to cut back my drinking. That’s mostly by having non-alcoholic beer instead of wine or ale with dinner (Heineken 0.0% is the best I’ve tasted so far, but I’d welcome any other alternative; NA wine is, so far, a total washout). That makes it easier to pass half my days without drinking at all. I’m nettled — I do like wine and ale, and my G&T on occasion — but I still enjoy them, freely. I simply don’t drink them as a matter of course.

Not Running

It’s raining, the winds are steadily in the mid-twenties MPH, gusting into the 40s, so no I think I shan’t run this morning. (I’m looking dubiously at my other outdoor obligations.) Coffee and fruit, I’ll freshen up and go to Morning Prayer, then a Pastoral Care meeting with my PC colleague, then the Prayer for Christian Unity service at St Nic’s (for agencies that offer safe shelter to people who are struggling under adverse circumstances). If I’m confident about buses/flooding in to Oxford, I’ll go to the NT Seminar, but at this point I half expect that it would be most sensible to stay put.

Social Media

I haven’t made a farewell note — I probably won’t, to be honest — but I’m trying to unstick myself from Facebook and Twitter (BlueSky seems non-toxic so far, with a robust fountain pen community, and Insta, however much I mistrust Meta/Zuck, makes Margaret laugh). My hope-plan entails leaving my accounts in place, leaving links to my blog and other pointers away from Face/X.

Partly I’m leaving in order to put my energy where my mouth is: on the blog. I still keep my news reader alive and refreshed, and I have been trying to keep up a reasonably consistent frequency of blog entries. But I realised that I was blogging less because I was reading less; and I’m reading less partly because my workload (first at Seabury, then at Glasgow, then especially at St Stephen’s House) has cracked my concentration, but also partly because Twit/Book had trained me to read only snippets, and to read snippets obsessively. I read social-media-panic reports sceptically, but I can’t deny my own experience: it’s easy for me to spend an hour scrolling through the feeds of my very, very many Facebook and Twitter friends, and it’s hard for me to sit down and immerse myself in a fictional world, and much harder still to read through an essay in biblical studies.

I still have work to do. I can’t let that pattern stand unchallenged.

So I will be trying, trying, trying to break the spell.

More Run

Got my miles in, at a slightly better time than yesterday. I’ll give a rolling average after my next run. Coffee and fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, ran some errands, coffee and toast, accomplished some work tasks, now it’s time for lunch. More tasks after lunch.

Brisk

Two miles (adequate pace, will give a rolling average once I figure it out in a spreadsheet), coffee and hot breakfast, shower and Morning Prayer, safeguarding workshop homework and Staff Meeting, then — heaven permitting — some time to take care of other miscellanea.

Glad To Be In Britain

Two miles, at an inglorious pace (which time I won’t disclose here just yet), coffee and fruit, shower, Morning Prayer, coffee and toast, started a PixelFed account. Now to resolve some marking debts, referee a submission, maybe read a little today, and prepare for a thrill-packed DCC meeting this evening. Not thinking, for a few minutes at a time, about the political catastrophe in the nation where my children and grandchildren (and Goose) live.

And Now For More of the Same…

We did well at the Mayor’s pub quiz at the Crown & Thistle; no sport questions and most of the music questions involved music that did well in the US (and also, little to no house/club music); we finished toward the middle of the pack, perhaps the upper middle. Yesterday, two miles in the morning, then a good Mass, then I scuttled to the King’s Head & Bell to enjoy a hearty lunch with Rosie, Brendan, and especially Edith (who is way more articulate than last time I saw her). Then bounced back to St Helen’s for the Epiphany Readings and Music followed by our annual Epiphany Tea. At the end of the Tea, I staggered home and curled up in a quivering bundle of exhaustion.

Two more miles this morning, and as I ran I thought that it was time to begin clocking my runs again (see what I did there?). I haven’t felt any progress over the past couple of years; I imagine that my determination that ‘just the running itself is the point’ — true as it is — was letting me slouch through tepid efforts without much progressive benefit. I’ll feel free to give myself untimed days now and then, but I anticipate timing my runs once again beginning tomorrow (and reporting to you, inquiring reader, after a few days).

Meanwhile, I’m nearing the bottom of my cup of coffee, I’ll shower and go to Morning Prayer, then a meeting at church, then home, then I’ll offer a Home Communion at Fr Keith’s flat, then home again…

Another More

Two more miles, same 2°, reluctant legs that got limber for a short interval about q third of the way through, then settled back into leaden torpor, then coffee, then Morning Prayer (followed by a power cut that set off the fire alarm’s ‘fault’ alert), breakfast at R&R, home to oversee the kennel as they await the groomer (in the positive, hair styling, sense). En attendant la toiletteuse….