For 36 days straight, I have jogged for 30 minutes. Well, I really should use the proper terminology: I’ve been slogging. It’s like sluggish jogging. I’ve basically just been trying to keep bending my knees for 30 minutes every day. As if that wasn’t hard enough, I also layered on another level. I had to unplug, untether, and jog unaided by technology.
But what about music?
Nope.
What about that Nike Fit?
Nope.
What about a flashlight?
Okay, but only because the sun is being seasonally destroyed thanks to gravity, climate change, the moon, or something.
You’re probably wondering if, after watching the sun cyclically decimated for the last 36 days, I have learned anything. Maybe you’re wondering if my approach to health, running, or seasonal allergies has been dramatically transformed.
Nope.
It’s still hard. Every day I go out and the first 15 minutes is achy and the second 10 is boring and the last 5 is oh my God am I done slogging yet?
But I’ve kept on slogging. Sure, there’s many people who can walk faster than I slog. And most people would have lost their weight in cookies by now. Except me. I haven’t lost any weight in cookies because I’ve made sure to replace any calories burned with cookies.
Honestly, my right knee is a little crunchy, but the rest of my body is surprisingly okay with it – mostly because of the cookies. I have really enjoyed those cookies. Mostly because I earned them (see? Health philosophy remains untransformed).
Jogging unplugged, though, that has had a ridiculously positive impact: it has definitely helped my creativity. I’m not even going to wax poetic or sound smart about it (the seasons thing has to do with the equator, right?). I’m just going to say that having that time to let my mind wander has been awesome. It’s not like I’m having light bulb moments, but the writing itself has been a lot easier, faster, and way more productive.
Beyond all that, though, here’s the best part: we went to the beach 
yesterday. Rowan and I played all morning, and then we went and ate lunch. Normally, this is when we would pack up and leave. Instead, I asked him: “Do you want to go play in the ocean again?” His little face focused in on mine intently. “Yes,” he said. “The ocean misses me.”
So, even though most days I would be wiped out from a morning at the beach, we went back and had an amazing afternoon kicking the beach ball into the ocean (over and over and over again).
Maybe there have been some physical changes. I’m not sure; I’m not going to start counting the miles yet. But, if anything good has come of it, there’s always this: the ocean is less lonely (which should help with that seasons thing).