Cycled to the pool before the city was fully awake — the body half-arguing for more sleep, the legs already on the pedals. 1,100 metres, a new distance: 550 freestyle, then turned over for 550 on the back, long minutes of ceiling tiles passing in slow procession. Came up not tired. Coffee at Flying Beans, a tomato panini, the V60 doing its slow drip. Walked home; a cottage-cheese bake waiting. Two breakfasts on a Friday — the small luxury of being back somewhere. The afternoon went the way Fridays do — call prep, then a long Zoom. The May 7 talk is starting to take shape. The mind kept trying to do the math on the sleep number. The body wasn't listening. Just kept showing up.