17.8 miles to Lothlorien. Only 8.2 more miles to where the blindfolds come off. By the end of the day, we'll have met Galadriel and what's-his-name.
For the record, I started my walk to Mordor on January 15, 2007. I have been walking for 595 days and averaging 1.5 miles a day.
And yes, I have a spreadsheet.
Interestingly, the excess sleep demand is leveling off at between 6.5 and 7 hours a night, so my body must be adapting to the extra workload, finally. And I'm starting to shed a few pounds instead of just packing on muscle and getting heavier, which is indeed, making the climbing easier. Go, simple physics. It's easier to haul 241 pounds up a wall than 247.
(For those of you interested in such things, according to Fitday, my caloric outlay for the day is likely to be around 2,659 calories. If I weighed around 155 (which I have not since the week after I had acute mononucleosis in college) it would be around 2,275 calories. 1100 calorie-a-day diet sound like such a good idea to anyone? No, me neither.)
An interesting side effect of sleeping a little more is that I am remembering more of my dreams. For the first time in... well, as long as I can remember, actually, though I assume I slept more as a teenager/when I was running in high school. This morning, I woke up from a partuclarly nice one in which I rudely/apologetically left a fancy dinner to take a phone call from Agent Jenn, who was calling to inform me that the Promethean Age books had been optioned by a movie company I can't remember, and which may not really exist.
I was pretty disappointed when I woke up, I tell you what.
No climbing Monday, so I may call it a recovery day unless a hike materializes. Climbing Wednesday, though, and I should be rested for it. *g*
And on that note I must shower, dress, grocery shop, and pick up ice cream for netcurmudgeon's birthday partee. Be good while I'm gone.