One more thing the miles can do.
This month was a routine keeping me upright while the ground moved. A lot of people in Georgia are in the middle of that right now, and for many of them the first thing to go is the grocery budget. Feeding Georgia is the statewide network of nine regional food banks, and every dollar stays in the state. If this page was worth anything to you, put a mile toward it. Any mile.
One hundred, one run at a time
Each dot is a run, sized by its distance and colored by its week, stacked into the month's total. The dashed lines are the plans I made and then abandoned. Hover or tap any run.
Under eight
Average pace for every full run the app timed, against the goal of staying under eight minutes a mile. The first two runs of the month sit far above the line; everything after Sept 5 is a different runner. The two sub-mile laps are left out. Tap a run for its mile splits.
Eighteen mornings
Every day of the month, shaded by miles. Rest days are blank. The last nine days are a straight streak. Tap a day to open it in the logbook.
The ledger
Twenty-seven runs. Eighteen mornings out of twenty-two. Thirteen hours and change on the road, most of it before most people were awake, in a month that took my job and handed me this instead. I would do it again, and the next one is about speed, not distance.
Sign the logbook
Every run this month got logged. This page keeps a logbook for visitors too: a name, where you're from, a line for the record. If you ran any of these miles with me, even from a chair, leave your name.
Your journey deserves a sheet of its own.
I built this page myself, the charts, the calendar, the story, all from the numbers the app kept and the photos on my phone. I make them for other people too. A trek, a season, a build, a year that mattered. If you'd like one for a journey of your own, leave your email and I'll write to you personally about how it works.
Got it, thank you. I'll write to you within a day or two. In the meantime, the road's just above. ↑