At the end of the day . . . (Ken´s Entry)

I lay awake at night replaying the day. I think of the social situations--the mercado, the taxi, the portero-- and I think of how dreadfully inadequate I was.

I replay the dialogue. I remember what I said, what I said wrong, what I failed to say, what I could have said better.

And I usually consider myself a dismal failure.

Then, in the twilight of the night between waking, and sleeping, and dreaming, I remember my successes.

I actually did tell the taxi driver where I wanted to go.

I actually did tell the portero that the toilet was running and would not stop.

I actually did ask the sales woman if these shoes came in my size.

I have been here for five days. Right now, I am exhausted. I know I have increased my activity level 200% and decreased my calorie intake by half. Everyday is an adventure, a success, and a defeat. Actually, that is exactly why I came here.

I will be 50 in 25 days. I needed to do something special, something important, something REALLY HARD.

When I turned 40, my goal was to run a marathon. I did it; I have run 17 since. The 50th had to be bigger. (I can´t imagine what challenge I will make for myself at 60).

So here I am, absolutely stretching myself to the limits of abilities. (Really, very much like a marathon--only a brain marathon).

The picture? That´s the pizza we had on New Year´s day. Everything was closed, and that´s about all I could get us to eat. Then there is the bird across the street who sits on the window ledge and sings all day. Just thought you´d be interested