Last week I published my first book (Darts) on Amazon and stumbled across this old Facebook post. It’s a piece of my journal entry. I laughed out loud as I read the comments and realized that this dream has been a long time in coming. Thanks to you who have encouraged me.
Jaime Deter: So Ben…why aren’t you a writer… I see one news-feed line & it [pulls] me in…couldn’t help but enjoy ‘the rest of the story.’ Seriously…you’ve got a gift.
January 14, 2011
Cocoa Beach, Florida
I did go swimming. I couldn’t resist. Don’t tell my wife or my runny nose.
I went to a budget meeting at the Kennedy Space Center today. I listened, played my part, and tried to keep my nose from dripping on the table. After work, the winter beach was calling, and I couldn’t resist. Don’t tell my wife or my runny nose.
Oh. And I played blues scales for the sunny seagulls on my harmonica. It was windy, so I hid behind the Lifeguard sign until those bums went home and took their dumb sign with them. Then the wind reminded me I’d promised myself some exercise. Running barefoot in the water led to running barefoot and sweater-less in the water . . . one thing leads to another. As I ran, my legs told me they wanted more kick-up spray, so I stripped down to my shorts, and gave my back a shower too. The shallow water cradled my feet and softened the impact without slowing me down. I felt like a Ferrari, enjoying a quiet track, watching the empty sidelines stream by before taking a tight corner. I wished I’d brought my wetsuit, but pretty soon I was swimming anyways.
The walk home was cold, but I got to sneer cheerfully at the dreary hotel weight room as I headed for my hot shower.
Thanks for encouraging me to follow my dreams, Jamie.
Too late–your wife and your runny nose found out, though independently from one another. Here’s another vote for you following your dreams, Ben. You are awesome.