Week 22. Transitioning back to normal (what is normal now that I am not writing or editing a book?) begins with restoring morning walks. Between my 4 am starts to 15-hour writing days and the frigid cold of the past several weeks, I’ve been lax. On this third day of 2016, though, the sky is blue and cloudless, and the walking is easy and fast.
I walk the lake path, stopping at all my favorite trees to press my spine against their rugged trunks and feel the support of their deep roots. At one thick cottonwood I surrender so completely that I briefly fall asleep on my feet. I jerk awake when a squirrel chitters next to my ear.
Transitioning continues with teaching myself not to pop awake several hours before dawn. Although it was a useful and even necessary convention, each day beyond deadline I realize how spent I am.
I have wasted no time reclaiming healthy nutritional patterns; food has been erratic at best, and I have treated my body poorly. My co-author, Deborah, and I have talked about how we each crave vegetables, even at breakfast. This morning I ate one egg, a giant portion of steamed spinach, seventeen baby carrots, and three stalks of celery. I was considering steaming asparagus but decided I’d save it for dinner.
It hasn’t yet sunk in what life will be like A.B. (after books). For now I am walking, turning my back to the trees and my face to the sun, trying to get more than five hours of sleep each night, and filling my crisper bins to overflowing with fresh fruits and vegetables. That is a start.
Crown Hill Lake painted
with sweeping brushstrokes of snow
I nap standing up
On the lake path, January 3, 2016