400 weeks

Every week for the last four hundred weeks, I have uploaded an activity to Strava, be it a run, a hike or a swim. Some weeks, including when I was down with Covid, I nearly broke my streak but, in the end, I kept going, which felt like something worth celebrating with a smoothie (more of a milkshake, to tell the truth) once I got out of the pool.

Late-summer days: learning how public radio is made over breakfast, having my annual performance review (luckily, my manager seems happy with the work I am doing) and a couple of other meetings before lunch, and then gradually drifting into article writing as the afternoon wears on, interrupted only by that swim. Tough life, I know.

In the real world: drones and military explosives near Leipzig Airport, the bond market signalling that $40 trillion in US debt, mounting interest costs and yet more spending on illegal wars might just be a bit too much even for America, and another deadly act of racist violence being reduced to individual psychological problems here in Sweden. Tomorrow, I am at least going to vote to micro-push reality away from cheap gasoline and venture capitalism hollowing out our welfare systems, even as a truly progressive global agenda appears as distant as ever.