Rant aside, I only wanted to express that, if Depression is indeed “anger turned inward,” that will probably explain why, before calling my supposed best friend on the telephone, when rehearsing my approach, I wound up only yelling and screaming at him in my mind.   My own Depression has been generated by my best friend’s apparent rejection of me.   OK – so now I know.

Just writing to report that I authentically did 24 push-ups in my second set this morning.   I think A.G. was off only slightly.   The key for me is to do them, not twice a week, but every three days.   I had only been able to do 20 of them on Wednesday.

I’ve never done so many push-ups before either.   My friend G.P. saw me do a set of twenty of them over at his place (three minutes after the initial warm-up set of ten) and told me I was doing them better now than I did when we were in high school together.

I’m not trying to boast.  I’m just flabbergasted.   A guy becomes homeless and lives on the streets, looks himself in the mirror nine months later, and decides he actually he looks better now than he did a year ago at this time.

I suppose that quitting the use of the foul substance known as crystal methamphetamine might have had just a little bit to do with that.   And using it in the first place might have had just a little bit to do with how I wound up homeless again.   Live and learn, I might say, shrugging it off.   But it’s too valuable a lesson to be shrugged off.   It’s the type of lesson that ought to be common sense to somebody who has his head halfway together.    That it was not common sense to me shows me that I did not have my head together.  And that’s the lesson, right there.

Anyway, life without speed is certainly a lot easier on my body.   I did slip one time in the year between November 25th when the job loss occurred and the following November 25th.   But I mainly woke up clean from speed on 11/25/10 and have been clean ever since, except for that one slip.

I’m not of the tweaker mentality or even semblance.   Whenever the cops were hauling me in, they would often tell me that I didn’t match the poster picture of the tweaker.    I still have all my original teeth, which most guys my age don’t still have even if they never did any meth.   It baffles me, I’m a mystery, I’m a walking miracle — I should be dead.   There has got to be some reason why God is keeping me alive.   Now all I gotta do is find out what it is.

Anyway, I did 2.1 miles in a state of excitement yesterday morning, when I realized I was going to be able to pick up $400 from my Payee and invest $360 to get a room for a week.   Now I’m sitting in a nice room with Wi-Fi and everything else.  It is so cozy in here, especially while raining outside.   I had only had two tall coffees prior to running, so I was raring to go.   I ran pretty fast at first, then kicked it so I could ideally run all the way from Oaksterdam to the CWIB, approximately three miles.   But the Rapid Bus appeared at the 2.1 mile point (I found out later on GoogleMaps) and I hopped on it.

Today was Thursday, and I did ten push-ups in the first set and 20 in the second set.   Did the same thing on Monday.   I think that if I reported having done 22 push-ups recently, I must have miscounted.     On my first day fully back, I only did 18.    It couldn’t have been 22, because it was really tough to finish the 20th push-up both these last two recent times.   So I’m going to go find where I wrote 10/22 and change that one to 10/18.   And know that both today and Monday, my push-ups were at 10/20.

Unsure which way is up right now.   Slept hugely the night before last, almost not at all last night, sporadically throughout the day today, and for a good two hours solidly right after dinner.   I’m thinking to open up my music notation program and get to work, because the task avoidance at this time of night will hit me so hard I’ll probably conk out right then and there.   Next thing I know, it will be morning  — and I’ll be up and running — again.

(1) As expected, I stopped running upon my return to the homeless experience, largely because I am walking upwards of ten to fifteen miles a day in order to obtain food at free community food resources.

(2) I slacked on push-ups for a while, so my lest two sets came out only to 10/18.   I had hit 24 in the second set, and now I have to work my way back up again.

That’s all.

The same day (Sunday) I did 22 push-ups in the 2nd set after having done the regular 10 push-up warm-up.  George was watching, and he stopped talking to me when I did them — I suppose so he could focus on observing them — even though I’d hoped he would keep talking to me so as to distract me, and I’d even requested that he not stop talking.

I believe I waited the correct three minutes between sets in his presence.  The 22nd push-up was explosive, and I didn’t attempt at 23rd that would have almost certainly caused me to collapse.

These were done a couple hours before the run.  So I kinda put the cart before the horse.  But I was so charged up with energy that I didn’t mind.  In fact, I thrived on the energy of it.  That energy carried me into the run as well, which was equally explosive, and daring, and darting, and swift.   Fantastic run.  I couldn’t believe after only five days without marijuana how much better I felt.  We were making my coffee like I’m used to making it at home, too, which is much stronger than the 1/2 caffeinated, 1/2 decaf blend we find at Trinity.  (That had to be a factor. )

In any case, I not only had a great run, but felt great for hours afterward, until suddenly I felt tired, and fell out for bed.  Yesterday I was back in the city of my current encampment, and took a day off from running while getting re-adjusted to the unusual amount of walking that comes with my current lifestyle.  It seemed I ought to have run this morning, but I was so exhausted from being underslept throughout the cold night, when I not only slept outdoors, but slept outdoors with insufficient cover.  I only had one thin blanket, and while I was thankful to have obtained it, more-or-less by a stroke of surprising good fortune, it wasn’t enough to keep me from shivering in this unprecedented cold.

To catch up on sleep, I slept during a train ride that took up till nearly noon.   Today I have walked eight miles so far, but am nonetheless considering a run.  It’s about six in the evening, I have recently re-caffeinated with a high intensity triple short mocha from Starbucks, I’ve got my running shorts on, my hamstrings are jonesing, and I’m going to do it.   I can easily find a 3.4 to 3.6 mile course in my vicinity, and now that there are no longer intense valuables in my backpack (having recently crashed my laptop), I have no qualms about finding a bush in which to stash it, and proceeding from there.

In general, I will be trying to replace my marijuana habit with the habit of ingesting high-potency caffeine content shortly prior to a good, long run.  It’s still a “feel-good” thing, but something tells me it will be a good change of pace, if not objectively better for me overall.

Admittedly, the height of caffeine content could potentially reduce the health benefits.  But that’s something that can be modified in future times.  The main thing now is to ascend above the depths of marijuana-related sloth.  But for tonight, I hope to find a sufficient dose of marijuana to imbibe prior to the great run, and prior to even further high-potency caffeination that itself will immediately precede the great run, if the powers that be permit.

Great run, but I need to keep this entry short for reasons related to the current condition of my computer.

However, toward the end of the run I began to “dissociate” (not sure that is the right word) and I had to jog/walk for fear of fainting.  It’s scary when it happens, which is not too often, fortunately.   But this was definitely the worst such time.   The world looked like a slide show, and as the slides are switched, in between slides, you always get the feeling you’re going to pass out.  So you stop and walk, then wonder what the fuss was all about, because you really feel like running, so you start running again, and immediately feel faint.   It’s a weird feeling.

Despite the jog/walk, which as you know is against my philosophy, I’m counting the whole route, because I really mostly ran, and walked only when pressed by fear of fainting.   It was a good run.  As far as the dissociation is concerned, I think my coffee was a little too strong this morning.

But I erred with the push-up prediction, and I pretty easily did 20 in the second set yesterday.  (The first set is always ten.)  I did struggle on the 20th, but “no pain no gain,” right?   I sort of willed myself to finish the 20th push-up at all costs, repeating not “I can do it,” “I can do it,” but rather “I WILL do it! I WILL DO IT!”

Makes you feel like a liar if you don’t.  Works every time.

Second, I am delinquent with regards to my push-ups after majestically hitting the 24 mark in my second set, to a round of applause from awestruck strangers on the street.   I gotta stop doing push-ups on the public sidewalks, if I don’t plan on getting inordinate attention.

Anyway, no push-ups of late, and my guess is that I’ll manage 18 push-ups at best next time I set about to do them.   That won’t be tonight, by the way.

(It was the last push-up that triggered the clapping.   They were all wondering if I was going to make it or if I was going to collapse.   Under that kind of pressure, I had to make it!)

So, I’m walking more than I’ve ever walked before.   I just measured the walk I did this morning: 5.4 miles from the North Inn to Trinity.   After that, there was other walking by necessity, but none of it was purposeful.   I hate those “junk miles.”  But in this life, they’ve got to be done.

When I ran the new 2.5 mile course along the Greenway tonight, I was again stricken by how long it’s taking me to feel winded at all these days.  Somehow, I’ve developed an unprecedented lung capacity.  And I don’t know why.   All I know is that my legs are in no shape to keep up with what my lungs want to take on.  It’s usually the other way around.

This time, my legs became really tight and almost inutile after only about two miles.  But after walking 5 1/2 miles in the morning, what was I to expect?   I can just see tomorrow trying to make it to the train station, barely able to preambulate.   We’ll see.

Otherwise, the run was a blessing.  I love running along that trail at night time and just taking in the sights.   It’s funny though — being in this neck of the woods, and especially in a hotel room, and especially a little lonely, is reminding me of somebody who lives near here.   A girl I went out with briefly – fell in love with, really – or so I thought.   The whole thing was all wrong, although I wouldn’t have cut it off, even knowing it was all wrong.  She cut it off when she perceived me to be a “drug addict” — which categorization I of course reject.   But my rejection of that classification is the product of a lifetime of defense mechanisms I count requisite to my survival.   I just can’t descend to that self-image.

Funny, I had been smoking pot and it hadn’t bothered her.  But when I did a hard drug — speed — that was it.  She wrote and told me she couldn’t be involved with a drug addict.   I think she thought that I had misled her.

I’d actually, really misled my own self.  I thought I would never do it again.  But when sufficiently triggered, and in the presence of its unexpected, sudden availability — I caved in.

That was about five months ago.  In four days, I will have been free of my drug-of-choice for an entire year — except for that single event.

Part of me wishes she would read this, and know.   But another part of me thought it was a smokescreen from the start — that she’s smarter than that.   She was looking for a reasonable way to cut it off — she must have known it was as wrong as I did.

On the other hand, maybe she meant it at face value.   Maybe my having been free of meth for the past five months will count for something.   But in the last analysis, it probably only highlights the wretched lowness of my flailing self-esteem.   The longer I stay away from that substance, the more I realize how totally I was blowing it in those days.

I have a lot to be thankful for — even if it doesn’t seem like it on the surface.  Most people don’t do the amount of drugs I’ve done and hope to make it without significant, severe mental or physical damage.  I feel as though God has spared me all that.  But why?

Maybe it’s not so important to know the reason why, but only to rejoice in it.  I’m alive, and fit, and healthy, and vibrant.   By all rights, I should be dead.

I’m a miracle really.   As such — I ought to be careful to keep my calling and my election sure.   I need to be the person whom she thought I was originally – the person “about whom biographies are written,” the person “whose life inspires.”  If I shirk that, I shirk my whole reason for living.

I really hope she sees this and realizes that I still think about her.   But even if she does, she’s probably wise to have moved on.

Now, about walking.  In the past two weeks, I’ve undertaken several lengthy walks in the four to five mile range, purposely walking as fast as I can.  I also did one that was closer to seven miles.

This enhanced walking is making a difference in my overall spirit and energy level.  There’s quite an increase in that sense of “energized relaxation” that running often gives me.  This leads me to suspect that walking, at some level, is almost as good an exercise as running.  For some people, in some ways, it might even be better.  For me, now, it is.

Today’s walking began with a 4.0 mile walk at a fairly slow and tedious pace.  It was a necessary long walk, from the North Inn to a Lutheran Church where there was sure to be the first food and coffee of the day.   (I’m still broke and homeless, but staying at an Inn for a week.)

After dinner I walked 0.8 miles to the spot where I spange, but that was really negligible.  It was mostly uphill, but mainly I noticed how much better I felt after eating, and how much easier it was to put one foot in front of the other.  I felt mentally better too — more optimistic.

After spanging up about $1.80, I went to MacDonald’s for a MacDouble and senior coffee.  I tried carrying the senior coffee home with me, but it got to be too much of a drag about midway through, and I discarded it after wolfing down what I could.   I had been thinking about saving it for the morning, but there’s a free coffee promo between five and six in the morning at the nearest MacDonald’s from the Inn.  I can just get coffee there, if so moved.

Even while still carrying the full cup of coffee, I found that walking back was remarkably easier.  I felt light, and fleet.  Even on the slight uphills of what is admittedly mostly a downhill course, I was briskly bristling along.   This walk turned out to be 4.3 miles, and it was a happy one.

I’m at this point debating whether to try and get a $180 refund in the morning and take off for five days of thriftiness before seeing my Payee again, or whether  to remain here and fill out the week I paid for.   If I choose the latter, I’m going to be faced with a serious food-and-exercise problem.   I’ll wind up overexercising in order to reach the sources of free food.  In addition, I won’t eat enough through those sources alone.  It might be a more practical decision to get a partial refund if I can, and focus on eating well, while returning to camping out.

But I’ll sleep on it and make a decision in the morning.

Push-ups today were lousy for the familiar reason of forgetting to do the main set after the warm-up set.  So I did two warm-up sets, spaced hours apart, and then a defective main set maybe a half-hour later.  10/8/18.   Lousy.  (I’ve hit 24 recently.)

I think it’s happening with the running, however.  I was about to say that I wonder if I’m going to start running again, being as it looks so promising.  But then I thought some more, and realized that it’s up to me to run or not to run.  To say that I wonder if I’m going to start running again is somehow wrong.

It’s like wondering whether or not I’m ever going to stop smoking marijuana.

Been flaking on the push-ups as of one week today.  I’ll crank them out.