The halfway mark of the twenty-four hour Le Mans run came and went without ceremony, twelve hours down and twelve still ahead, the body settling into the long discipline of it. The fitness holds its course as well, four pounds lighter than when I began, with the line under two hundred now close enough to reach for by month’s end. There is a quiet satisfaction in two efforts that ask the same thing of a person: to keep on past the point where novelty has worn off. I tried my grandmother on the phone and found no answer; I will try again tomorrow. And in the evening I made a beginning with Godot, the first small step toward a game of my own, which I expect will test a different kind of endurance entirely.