Dear diary:

As uncertainty and stress continue to swirl around the status of outdoor track, 2021, I have been turning to the solace of writing (Say More vs. Say Less?) to keep my head straight. Abetted by early-morning coffee and late-night insomnia, here are some random thoughts from the past week.

Today, Anniversaries: It has been a year since we started the Pandemic Papers interview series, with the kickoff being Father Jacob Bertrand Janczyk on Thursday, March 26. It some ways, the year has flown by – here I am, sipping coffee in the early-morning hours of the last Thursday of March, house quiet and no plans to go to campus to meet the team, just like last year at this time. And in some ways, it has been a long slog of sameness, anxiety and bewilderment of what is happening and what has happened. A year ago, the idea of contracting the virus was scary, the idea of getting a virus test was laughable and the idea of a virus vaccine was science fiction. A year later, the virus remains scary and tragic (more than a half million Americans perished), but we also understand a lot more about it. Getting a test is quite simple, almost routine. And the miraculous vaccines are in a lot of people’s arms with a lot more on the way, our single greatest pathway to that light at the end of the tunnel. Meanwhile, the Pandemic Papers may have slowed to a trickle, but we have a blockbuster edition in the works. Stay tuned.

Monday, Top-down mode: The road wind and noise were unbearable. So too was the volume of music emanating from the front seat of the Jeep, courtesy of my daughter’s iPhone and my wife’s Jeep Wrangler with the top two panes of the front seat roof removed – allowing the unseasonably warm sun and just-as-warm breezes to engulf the vehicle. I was in the back seat. Jeeps are not comfortable rides, especially in the back seat. The road noise, wind noise and music noise were giving me a headache, as was my cell phone, which dutifully told me that Marist College was now on Code Orange, full pause through Friday. But you know what? The sun was shining and the two most important women in my life were smiling, singing and happy. For a Sunday afternoon toward end of March, we’ll take it.

Sunday, Old logs, new logs: Not sure why, but I started reading my old training (running) logs – was delving into the early and mid-1990s the past few mornings. It’s a window back in time, a truncated diary with snippets of information and running and life – some simple comments like “felt peppy” or “brutal cold rain” or “no motivation” and some others lost in the foggy haze of memory like “a lot going on” or “busy with travel” (where or why, who knows?) and one simple entry on July 14, 1995 that read “I got married.” I kept training logs pretty regularly back in the day. I had a few in the mid-1980s, stopped for many years and then resumed in the early 1990s and continued them for 20 years before once again suspending operations, which I regret. I have resumed the habit now, and I’m glad to do it. Now, my training log entries feature more walking than running, but it also motivates me to log more miles and get my Garmin watch going along with my legs. And maybe include some other life information in there too. Something to look back on, when I’m an old man. Or more likely, a pile of dated spiral notebooks for my children to view with detached curiosity after I’m gone, debating whether to toss them into the dumpster, burn them in a bonfire or keep them as a keepsake of a life on the move. Kids, if you are reading this? Keep them, please. They may not be “worth” anything to anyone, but they meant something to me while I was around. And that should be worth something. 

Saturday, Why am I awake?: Why do I wake up so early these days? It’s 4:46 a.m. as I start typing this, and I’ve been awake – pretty much wide awake – for about an hour. One culprit = my digestive system, which is a ravaging mess each morning. Doesn’t matter what I ate the night before or the day before, although it’s a pretty safe bet there was some non-quality junk in there. When you are home for most of the day, you graze. And when you graze, it’s mostly unhealthy foods that you consume. So yeah, that could be of my own doing. But that’s not the entire story. Why am I up so early, mind racing, eyes scanning late-night texts (anything sent after 9 p.m. is considered “late night” to me), the email inbox, New York Times articles, words tumbling out of my head and onto this document while the rest of the house – and most of the world – remains dormant. There is a beauty in this isolation – a quiet I don’t get the rest of the day – but it’s also unsettling. Yeah, I’m an early riser. But THIS early? This is just not normal, it’s not right … but it’s my normal now, so I guess it will be what it will be for now. Time to brew more coffee, think of some more words and get ready to meet my friends for a jog.