deeplyshallow // routines and subroutines

routines and subroutines

A couple of weeks ago I went for my usual afternoon walk on the beach. It was later than usual; I’d been busy that day. After about ten minutes, a heavy fog rolled in. I didn’t notice it at first, but soon I couldn’t easily see the sandpipers that I’d been watching as they strolled through the water. I looked back the direction I’d come from: pure whiteout. I looked towards the dunes, and could only barely make out their shape in the fog. I wondered if I’d be able to find the beach access path again, or if I’d be stuck out there until the fog lifted. I spotted the No Dogs on Beach sign by pure luck. The red slash through the sihouetted retriever stood out just enough in the gloom, and marked a trail that led into a neighboorhood not too far from where I’d left my truck.

This weekend’s been like that, so I’ve returned to the gym. I’m embarrassed that I’ve been paying for a gym membership for a year, and I’ve barely used it at all. After a late workout on Friday, and a midafternoon one today, I’m looking forward to picking up the pace again. I was going to have to anyway; with the change in my work schedule, I don’t have the luxury of hitting the beach in the afternoons anymore. The gym will have to fill in mornings or evenings.

One of the perks of my new job is the benefits, which kick in on August 1st and include a company-paid gym membership. (That is, unless you use the membership less than eight times a month, in which case you assume the financial responsibility.) Their club’s a much better one than my local gym, which is small and usually fully-stocked with geriatrics. In any case, I’m looking forward to getting back to a regular workout. In the last four or five weeks — I forget how long it’s been — I’ve worked off twenty pounds, but the rollover from twenty to twenty-one has been next to impossible. I can’t quite seem to get over that hump. Today’s burn, though, put the beach walks to shame; as enjoyable and peaceful as they’ve been, they’re not exactly leaving me breathless and sweaty and satisfied.

It’s been interesting, going back to work again. I started on Thursday, which meant that my first week was a very short one. They put me right to work, and the project in question was for a client that dwarfs every other client I’ve ever worked for. I didn’t have time for culture shock; there was too much to do. Tomorrow I’m moving on to another similarly high-profile client. The one thing that my career to date hasn’t included, as came up during my interview, is major brand experience; that I’m finally building some is a welcome change.

On the other hand, the shock of fitting my life back into a pattern hasn’t fully dissipated yet. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve had to wake up bright and early, since I’ve had to go to sleep before three a.m. It’ll likely take a few weeks for this routine to displace the loose shuffle I’ve been accustomed to. On the other hand, it’s been a couple of years since I’ve had the luxury of a real weekend; if you’ve ever freelanced, you know that your work day is never quite over, that you’re always on call. I think it’s all going to balance out just fine.