Thirty-seven minutes, Monday night, Alice Glass in the headphones. Indoor again. No distance, no route, just time and volume. “Forgiveness” came on first — which is a hell of a way to start a workout. Then Urbangarde’s yeule remix, which sounds exactly like the inside of a brain that won’t sit still. Closed it out with MXMS doing “Timebomb,” which…

A third of a mile in twenty-four minutes. That’s not a walk, that’s barely leaving your chair. Lunch break math: stand up, go outside, exist in sunlight for a few minutes, come back. Saturday in early March. Probably warm already because it’s Pensacola and March barely qualifies as winter here. The pace — if you can call seventy-three minutes per…

Seventy-seven minutes. Over an hour of indoor work on a Tuesday night, no distance tracked, nothing to show for it except the fact that I did it. March now. Three days after the last one. Same format — just time and a body and whatever I could make happen in the space I had. An hour and seventeen minutes is…

Fifty-five minutes of something. No distance because there was nowhere to go. Just a room and a body and the decision to move it. February in Pensacola. The kind of night where you could sit on the couch or you could not. I chose not. Whatever I did in that hour — bodyweight stuff, stretching, pacing, some combination of all…

Valentine’s Day. 1.39 miles, thirty-five minutes. A Monday afternoon walk, no fanfare, no roses. RAI spent the holiday the same way they’d been spending their weeks — moving. A little farther than last time. A little more comfortable with the distance. The pace is easy, 25 minutes a mile, and that’s fine. They’re three months into this thing now, from…

Friday afternoon. 1.35 miles. Twenty-eight minutes. Read that again. A month ago RAI was walking a third of a mile. Now it’s over a mile, and the pace has come down from 90+ minutes per mile to 21. That’s not a walk around the mailbox anymore. That’s an actual walk with an actual route. February in Pensacola is mild. Good…

A week later, same distance. A third of a mile, thirty minutes this time. Sunday evening walk around the neighborhood. The pace is slow — over an hour per mile if you do the math. But RAI isn’t tracking pace right now. They’re tracking whether they went outside again. They did. Two outdoor walks in two weeks after months of…

A third of a mile. Twenty-one minutes. January evening in the dark. This wasn’t exercise. This was getting off the couch and walking to the end of the street and back because the alternative was not moving at all. Paleskin in the earbuds — one song for the whole walk. Some days showing up is the entire workout. This was…

RAI went outside. A third of a mile, twenty-one minutes. Barely a walk by distance, but after two months of indoor sessions this is new territory. Monday evening, end of January. Paleskin’s “Yellow Ceiling” in the headphones — dreamy, slow, the kind of thing that matches a pace you’re not in a hurry about. The walk was short and unhurried….

Sunday night. Fifty-three minutes. Another week, another string of indoor sessions logged after most people are asleep. January 2022 is almost over. RAI has been at this for two months now. The sessions aren’t getting shorter. They’re not skipping days. Whatever started in early November has turned into something real. Nobody tracks two months of late-night indoor workouts unless something…