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Tuesday 1/19/21

Walked three miles yesterday. Sunday marked 1673 days, or 239 weeks, without a drink. That same day I walked twenty-three miles, ran 2600 stairs, and did ten hill sprints. On Saturday, there was a gale. Pouring rain, lashing wind, even January thunder. So I decided to go to Charlestown and run ten hill sprints, which were more like vertical mud sprints.

There are days where the weather is so foul--only two or three days a year--where it seems like even cars are unwilling to go out. You don't see people, you don't see vehicles. But on Saturday, before the dawn, one might have seen--or they eye of the universe might have seen--an artist in a a hell unlike any other walking across a bridge where the Charles River is normally held back from the Atlantic Ocean by locks. Gates that are shut.

But on this morning, the locks were open, had been forced open, and I stood and watched, drenched, as the water from the Charles all but exploded into the harbor, a churning, elemental rush of so much force, power. What happens is the level of the river rises, and the river all but forces the opening of the locks, and then those waters of the river are no longer waters of the river. They are confined to no single basin in the world, for once those waters enter the harbor, overrun the harbor, they can go anywhere.

So I stood, I watched, I took note. And I reminded myself: Every single step. Literally every single step. Every single stair. Every single piece. Every single blog post. Every single story. Every single book. Moves me to where I am going, has a part in this quest that will come to fruition. No matter what anyone else believes, doesn't believe, what anyone else does, what anyone else tries to stop, whatever abuse there is, whatever discrimination there is, whatever hate, whatever envy, lies, betrayals, whatever anger, whatever plans to halt my progress, however alone I am, however unloved, shat on, debased, whatever locks. All that ultimately will wield the influence of where I get to are those stories, those books, these entries, those pieces that no one else who has ever been can touch, and those steps, stairs, miles, that kept me strong enough to keep going.


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