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Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Sunday, June 18 7:00 AM: Do you think alarms ever get fed up with doing the same thing every day? Does it fulfill some sense of purpose? Whatever the answer, mine still likes me enough to wake me up, for which I am grateful. I prepare to jog. 7:03 AM: Roomie sleeps in again. Ah well. I’ve got my podcasts to keep me company. 7:05 AM: One last time I pound the pavement. The air is cool and perfectly humid. 7:09 AM: You know, I think I’m finally getting back into this ‘running’ thing. 7:13 AM: As I cross the final bridge, I decide to do an extra little loop. I’m feelin’ good about this. 7:16 AM: See? That was fine. Go you. You get some chocolate later. One last time I push and pull myself up to complete my morning workout. 7:23 AM: Shower. 7:31 AM: Breakfast. The last of my greens, the bottom of my yogurt, my only remaining egg. 7:50 AM: I return to my room and pack up my things. Today’s schedule is a tad more accelerated than the rest of the weekend. I wanna get this morning going. 8:18 AM: Okay, I think that’s everything. I double-check and triple-check, because I’d rather not forget my keys or laptop in North Carolina. Love you, NC, but I don’t plan on returning anytime soon.
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Part 1
Part 2 Part 3 Saturday, June 17 7:00 AM: My phone wakes up, and yells at me to put it back to sleep. I groggily oblige it. I do not offer myself the same courtesy, instead donning my running gear. 7:06 AM: After a stop by the bathroom and the water fountain, once more I head to the top of the hill for my run. My roommate opted to stay in bed today. I can’t exactly blame him. 7:08 AM: Shush, legs. You did this yesterday and you were fine. You’ll be okay. 7:11 AM: You’ll be fine. Shush. Shuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuush. 7:17 AM: Another strong finish across the bridge. I do few sets of bodyweight shenanigans, paying no mind to the cargo-shorted, Birkenstocked Quakers often found at this time of morning. 7:30 AM: I feel less sticky than yesterday (though I’ll always be tacky). Still, a shower is undoubtedly warranted. It’s marvelous. 7:36 AM: And once more, over to the SAYF dorm for breakfast. It’s the same fare as yesterday; mixed greens, yogurt and oats and banana, and a hardboiled egg (Mom cooked and brought the eggs for me, as well as a little Ziploc bag with some salt; I love her). My food remains uneaten by the ravenous teens. I count it a small miracle. 7:55 AM: I sling my pack over my shoulder and wander down to the main building. I still have hours before the morning starts (today is much the same as yesterday; variations on a theme), but I have some work I can do. #productive Part 1
Part 2 Friday, June 16 7:00 AM: Phone does the ding-a-ling thing. I chase the leftover sleep from my eyes, slide into shorts and a tank top, and don my running shoes. 7:03 AM: My roommate follows suit. He’s gonna be my buddy this morning. 7:12 AM: After some short stretches and warm-ups, we hit the pavement. 7:13 AM: Mountains are hard. 7:16 AM: Hills do nasty things to your calves. Ergh. 7:19 AM: We pull a strong finish across the bridge and commence with exercises. Yoga for him, bodyweight shenanigans for me. 7:27 AM: My skin’s tacky. Ick. I take a shower. 7:40 AM: It’s my favorite time: breakfast time. I saunter over to the SAYF dorm, munch some greens, mix a little parfait, and roll out a hardboiled egg. I eat it outside. The morning is peaceful. 7:58 AM: My morning activities don’t start for a couple hours. I wander to the main building and check Facebook, work on some creative projects, and see if anybody I know wanders by. 8:25 AM: Nobody has wandered by and I’m still tired; 9 hours of sleep apparently wasn’t enough to make up for my marathon the last two days. 8:31 AM: I set a timer and lay down for a quick nap. 9:31 AM: Ding-a-ling. I rouse myself. Better. Much better. Continued from Dawn of the First Day
Thursday, June 15 8:03 AM: The car re-arrives at Warren Wilson, for good this time. Registration doesn’t open for a couple hours; we settle in the student lounge. Dad and I share some YouTube. 8:42 AM: Mom and Dad leave to do important things. I, too, do important things—I lay down and close my eyes, utilizing the super-comfiness of the lounge couches (a quality I like to call nap-titude). 9:48 AM: I rouse myself and stumble to the registration table; it’s open now. Key—received. Keycard—acquired. Perfect. I’m here for SAYMA, the annual gathering of the Southern Appalachian Yearly Meeting Association. It’s a four-day Quaker convention. I’ve written before about my time with SAYF; this is its parent organization. My little brother is graduating from SAYF this year, and there’s a strong tradition of the Young Adult Friends (YAFs; we Quakers love our acronyms) welcoming the graduates into our fold. It matters that I’m here, to him and to me, especially since I was part of the same community. 10:02 AM: Now that I can get into the YAF dorm, I lug my suitcase and backpack and pillow and breakfast into my room. My roommate has already set up camp on one bed—turns out he was a few years behind me in SAYF. He’s not there right now, but I make a mental note. I claim the other bunk and unpack. Wednesday, June 14
5:30 AM: My phone emits a jocular jingle, rousing me from slumber. I plant my feet on the floor and get with the business of going to work. 5:36 AM: Pants belted. Shirt on. Teeth brushed. Keys and wallet—check, check. I lock the door on my way out. The sun is already up. When did that become a thing this early? 5:45 AM: I arrive at work. I’m the first one there (as always); my sense of discipline shimmies proudly. My co-worker arrives a bit later. 8:13 AM: Our mid-shift support rolls in. She only works until 2. I’m not bitter. I’m not bitter at all. 9:15 AM: Mr. Dubious-Diet orders his regular salad, the one with all the toppings and quadruple the rolls. Hgggggggggggggh. It’s 9:15 in the morning. Please don’t make me do this yet. Please don’t make me do this at all. 2:08 PM: The closers arrive and our mid-shift heads out. I have two hours left at work, and miles after that before I sleep. It’s gonna be a looooooooooooooong day. I’ve been really busy this month, between Illyria and a family visit and working more than usual, so I don’t have a full blog post. But, loyal readers, y’all still deserve something. Here are some moments and memories that gave me life this month.
There are more moments that passed too quickly to register or were steamrolled by subsequent sorrows. The more I focus on picking out bright spots in the daily drivel, though, the more I see. Sometimes it seems I live in a fractal of joys. That sense of wonderment, though, is twinned by an insidious worry that I'm fooling myself into complacency. Perhaps finding solace in frozen berries with off-brand whipped cream is trite. Maybe I am doomed to eternal contentment, my full potential never realized. But ya know, there are far worse fates. I’d rather be at peace with my lesser things than pace my penthouse floor at night. I’m young, I’m fit, I’ve got pep in my step and a brand new v-neck. Things will only get better from here. |
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