Had a headache, but ran 5000 stairs today. That's 30,000 stairs in four days, which is pretty good. Lest you doubt, try it some time.
Here is a photo of me on this day, eight years ago:
This is a photo of me from this week:
The C-Dawg has thinned out and is aging in reverse. It's the no-drinking, the stairs, a Zulu attitude, a desire/commitment/purpose greater than all desires/purposes/commitments in the history of humankind to beat these people who are keeping me back.
This is a mid-workout sweat puddle:
The sweat puddle is a sign of a good workout, because you have to be going at it hard to generate the puddle in winter. It's a barometer, you could say.
I began a piece on Jack Kerouac and what I call gateway artists. On the stairs, I worked on a story I came up with last night. I came up with two stories last night, actually. This is the longer one. I met seven characters, who, as per how this works, began to tell me their stories.