On Monday night, I stared at my friend’s back as we pedaled up Beechwood Boulevard. His back was getting smaller at about the same rate as my airways.
I made it eventually, and it felt good to know that I really am capable of biking up to Squirrel Hill. If I want to be able to do it by myself though (i.e. without the motivation of certain ridicule), then--asthma be damned!--that kind of pain needs to become routine until there is no more pain.
The next morning, I thoughtlessly took the elevator up four floors to my office, and the idea of integrating my pursuit of endurance with my pursuit of R&D study approvals took hold.
That was Tuesday. On Wednesday morning, I walked into the building and was greeted by this, complete with friendly ‘Ding!’ sound:
“It’s for me!” I thought. So up I went, guilty and resolving that it would be my last elevator ride for a while.
After lunch, it happened again.
me: so twice today, I got to the elevators just in time to hear it ding and open--with no one inside--as though it had come just for me.
this last time though, I said no.
"maybe it is tempting me to be lazy," I thought.
------------------------------------------------------------------ 32 minutes
S: you're weird
This morning? Same thing. I confronted it, hands on hips, and rounded the corner to the stairs.
me: the elevator opened for me again.
(No response.)
