Self-Imposed Quarantine Day 11, Hour 9.
Provisions remain steady. I've got a week remaining before I'll need more coffee, and maybe three days before I'm out of creamer. Rice levels remain solid, along with tortillas and cheese, though the biggest alert has got to be the impending shortage of gummy bears. I've been rationing them out at three-per post-meal for the past three days.
I really shouldn't have gone on that gummy-bear binge while watching Westworld last Sunday...
I've trimmed my beard three times, tripling the number since February, learned how to play six new songs on my guitar, read/reread three books, and have written almost 16,000 words.
On that note: I'm open to any reading suggestions...
The past few days have been quite the challenge with roughly nine inches of white fluff coating the landscape in white once again, making a trip to the front porch uncomfortable given the cold.
At least earlier in the week I could stand and watch the birds or people walking their dogs. I'd wave from a distance tripling that of six-feet and smile. My voice would crack from the lack of use if I attempted to say "hello."
It's times like now that I can't imagine how Christopher Knight went 27-years without having a conversation with anyone while camping deep in the Maine woods.
Perhaps in the way an athlete trains their body and mind to endure difficult situations, so does the hermit.
Or maybe some things are just innate.
When a self-proclaimed introvert gets cabin-fever, you know it's getting tough.
Over the past week the world has gone silent, as all forms of social gatherings were sliced and diced the day everyone wanted to go outside and do exactly that - St. Paddy's Day.
Add that mild 60 degree weather with a little sun and everyone was salivating for contact and Spring a little more.
But no - everything feels quite different now.
It's like we're all floating on bright yellow life boats, tied loosely together as we drift somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, hoping to spot land.
Perhaps a place where COVID-19 hasn't reached yet.
Only we've got to remain in our boats - no switching - and converse like we would at a rowdy restaurant, in high-pitched yelling, the kind that leaves you with a headache the next morning.
You know, because of the social - excuse me - "Physical Distancing."
The tethers that connect our boats create a vast web, like the internet back in the 90s. Before Facebook or Instagram. Before TikTok or Twitter. Back when it was aptly referred to as "The Web," or "The Net."
Back when you had to go online.
Nowadays that description seems all the more accurate, because it's almost the only way we can communicate with each other.
It's been an interesting week, but one thing that has given me hope is seeing that athletes are still doing what they can do to prepare for an uncertain season.
Whether or not we ever get that final call to the starting line for the 2020 track and field season, work done now is work done for later.
Gains are gains.
Take the athletes at Valor Christian, who are practicing physical-distancing by not working out together, then loading a short video of the day's subscribed pain-session on Instagram to be combined with other videos of teammates enduring the same workout.
While we might feel alone in each stride or rep, I've got to tip my dark gray 303 Running hat to the sheer brilliance of social media and its users, because it's given us the opportunity to maintain our physical distance, while socializing.
Virtual track workouts.
In the past we had the opportunity to indulge in reality and social media, but now the entire experience of communication has been forced on-the-line.
If anything, it's forcing us all to be more creative with how we communicate.
Like a group of individuals with the same workout, filming it separately, and splicing it together like one workout to share, or exchange.
These are unique times, which require innovative ways to still go about our day.
In times like these we need to be reminded that our boats are all tied together and that we're drifting into the same direction - forward.
We might not be able to toe the line together physically, but if you're still putting in the work, alone, and others are out there grinding on various tracks or hills across the state too, then we're still all in this together.
On one final note, I believe Megan Lonneman won last week's hill workout.