Running: cutback week, only 38-39 miles. This week I attempted speedwork for the first time in ages, also bumped up the number of running days between rest days. I still do not go remotely fast or far, but it is my hope to maintain close to 60mpw by summer's end.
Work: guess what? Reorg, that's what. I must carry it with me, like Typhoid Mary. My little band of developers got absorbed into a much larger group within the huge giant company we work for. Or should I say "huge giant company at whose pleasure I am a contract worker" because that's what it is. We have no loyalty toward each other, this company and I, and each of us is hardly aware of the other's existence. Everything I've been working on for the past month is about to get mothballed, or maybe not, I don't know.
And, of course, music: tonight's practice wasn't as bad as last night's. Or at least that's how it started out. After a couple of hours I was noticeably tired and my playing was noticeably bad, so I stopped.
There are some articles currently on violinist.com about learning (everyone can, right? even grown-ups) and interaction between student and teacher (try to impress the teacher and you too will become a good violinist) that bring me back to my eternal question: what if someone really can't ever get very good at this despite tons of desire and hard work? Some people are truly tone-deaf. I am not, but I really hate the way I play sometimes and I wonder if I am simply not capable of any improvement. Not long ago I asked how I could get better at playing faster and the answer was not "do this, and try that, and think of it such and such a way" but "you are an adult, there are limits to what you will be able to do." Not the answer to the question I asked, and certainly not anything I wanted to hear. But what if I am so bad that there just isn't any possibility of improvement? What if, at the end of it all, that was really the answer to the question?