Sunday two men stopped me on the street where I had just done a set of push-ups to ask if I was "the stair guy." While I was nodding in the affirmative, the one said to the other, "Are you kidding? He's been out there every day for years," which pretty much covered it.
This I do for one reason: so I am strong enough to endure in the war against the evil and bigotry of the publishing industry. That is how far my devotion extends. My devotion to beating these people and getting my work where my work deserves to be, to be seen by as many people as my work deserves to be seen, to be loved by as many people as my work deserves to be loved, is total.
I also saw a woman in her eighties running with a woman in her forties. I saw them twice--about a mile and a half apart each time. A person has so much say in what they can do. The older woman decided to exercise this say; and there she was. Running miles in her eighties. She was fine. Keeping up with the other woman, and talking as they went.
Last Wednesday I ran 3000 stairs and did 100 push-ups. This was back on the big stairs at Government Center. I have been running harder--really charge up those stairs--to get a higher intensity workout. Nothing Thursday. Three cycles in the Monument, 200 push-ups, and three miles walked on Friday. 3000 stairs and 100 push-ups on Saturday. On Sunday I ran 3000 stairs, did 300 push-ups, and walked twelve miles. Yesterday was 3000 stairs and 100 push-ups. My first set of push-ups each day is now a set of forty. I think I started doing these push-ups a year ago. Around then.
Today was another 3000 stairs and 100 push-ups, in the cold, wind, and what was a mix of snow and rain. Not sleet. Was part rain, part snow. Half and half. Coming down the stairs, the wind blew this mixture up into my face, pelting it. Not many people out.
As I say, you really have to want something to be out there when it's like that, and out there like this, mostly every day. You really have to believe in something. You really have to have purpose.
Sunday marked 2436 days, or 348 weeks, without a drink.