With Fridays being visiting days at Taft Prison Camp, I had a lot to look forward to when I woke this morning. I hadn’t seen Carole in two weeks, and since we used too many of our phone minutes earlier in the month, we’ve been having to cut our telephone conversations short as well. I looked forward to connecting with my wife again during our visit.
I didn’t begin writing this morning until 3:30, as I wanted to rest a bit longer. My body has been feeling beat up from all the exercise. A rest would likely serve me well, but I had set two benchmarks when I began this long string back in December. I wanted to run 1,000 miles without taking a day of rest, or at least I wanted to run 100 days without taking a day of rest.
Today would mark my 98th straight day of running, but I only had 883 miles recorded. I would only run two miles today, as I needed my legs to recuperate some. On visiting days, I’ve been running these shorter distances. When I concluded my run this morning I boosted my tally to 885 miles. On Sunday I would reach my 100th day of running, but I would still have to cover 100 plus miles to reach the 1,000-mile goal. At the pace I’ve been going, I’d have about two more weeks to reach it.
These individual goals really help me through the prison term. They may not have much meaning to others. I’m not setting any type of record, competing against anyone, or striving for an award. Working toward a goal that I set simply restores a smidgen of control to my life. While making progress toward the goal, I feel as if I alone determine the inevitable success or failure. By achieving goals that I set in place, I empower myself. That’s why I intend to continue running, even if my body feels sore.
I only wrote two blog articles before my exercise. Then I wrote a letter to Tristan, a young friend of mine currently residing in Brescia, Italy, while he awaited the start of graduate school in the fall. I have known Tristan since he was in primary school. Now he is a university graduate and engaged to marry. His maturity is a reminder of how much time I have served in prison. I remember the first visit I had with him, in the mid-1990s, when his mother brought Tristan and his brother Zach to visit me at the Fort Dix prison.
Today I felt excited about visiting with Carole. She did not feel well, however, and was only able to sit with me for three hours. I returned to my housing unit at noon, sad and feeling very much in prison. I look forward to this prison term’s end, as soon as it will come.
Friday, 20 March 2009
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