The daily grind

9/15/09 Sports Illustrated cover with picture of Pedro Martinez, mailed to Philadelphia

Trying to do anything out of your normal routine every day, day after day, without skipping a day is not easy. Sure, there are a few things that happen daily, even without much effort. Eating, brushing your teeth, chillin' with the cats. But when you try to do something beyond basic life functions every twenty-four hours, things get tough.

Think about something you enjoy doing. Going for a run. Cooking a great meal. Watching a movie. Now, try to imagine doing it every single day; no exceptions.

Nor'easter brought two feet of snow? Lace up those shoes, gotta get out there and jog.

Had a long day at work and got home late? Start cookin', buddy.

Driving all day to get to relatives' house for the holidays? Better bring the portable DVD player to watch that flick.

Even the fun stuff becomes a drag when you never get a day off. It also can be a logistical challenge. I'm forty-six days into this year-long adventure, and it's clear that some days are just going to be a scramble.

As I rummaged through boxes of priceless goodies yesterday looking for downsizable Patriots stuff (read about it here), I discovered a Sports Illustrated cover I've saved since 1998. Not the whole magazine, just the cover. I hadn't even cut it off cleanly. And there was a yellowed piece of tape still attached to one corner, revealing the fact that it had once served as decoration in my apartment. Is all of that pathetic?

Perhaps you'll say yes when you find out that my reaction wasn't to throw it out. Instead, I mailed it off to be - hopefully - autographed.

But, here's where that daily grind kicks in. Writing a soppy letter to Pedro Martinez and going to the post office to get proper postage wasn't in today's packed schedule. After my last meeting of the day, I flew out of school, making it to the post office parking lot five minutes before closing. Fortunately, I'd grabbed the S.I. cover and some envelopes before I left home this morning. I sat in my car, hurriedly scribbling a note to the former BoSox hero. I ran inside before they locked the door, but they had to unlock it to let me back out.

Day forty-six? Check.

Tomorrow, I get up and do it all over again.