My Hour: 3 a.m.

I've spent a few days away from the blog handling a few personal matters and working against an at-work deadline, thus, my one hour has been neglected. And now, I'm afraid I have the flu.

It's 3:25 a.m. and I'm awake. Maybe because I've been asleep since 6 p.m. last night, maybe because I just can't sleep anymore, or maybe because it's so damn cold in my bedroom. The joys of an old apartment building: great woodwork, but old wood, which means cracks and creases that let in the cold air.

At 3:29 a.m. I'm flipping through the channels.

Found: "Stardust Memories"; Woody Allen, circa 1980

Total movie time: 89 minutes. Hour starts now.

One Hour: Gone

Where did my one hour go?

I made a pact with my friend Legally Brunette to devote one hour of our days to us, and I failed on day three. Ironically, 3 is my lucky number so that's somewhat disappointing. I read her one hours and I'm so jealous...grocery shopping, cuddle breaks with husband, TV time. She's done an exceptional job at sticking to the pact. I, on the other hand, didn't get very far.

In my fridge: parmesan cheese and bottled water.
On my sofa: No husband with whom to cuddle.
On the TV: Not sure, as the sound is muted.

Work started at 7 a.m. Work ended at 7:30 p.m. Family crisis started at 6:30 p.m. Hiatus from 7-7:15 p.m., while I was interviewing a source for an article. Family crisis re-started at 7:15 p.m.

It's almost 9 p.m. and I haven't had dinner, haven't gone through the pile of mail on my kitchen counter, and while I have had a couple glasses of wine, I feel it's lost of me as I'm nowhere near relaxed as I should be.

Flip side: Busy, but productive day at work. Good meetings - albeit exhausting - and thankful for a job I love getting up for every day.

I'll end this post now in an effort to jump on the coming hour. First, "The Office," followed by "30 Rock" - 1 hour of prime-time comedy. Fingers crossed.

Hour 2: Nearing Exhaustion

"When we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."
-Mark Twain

Meetings all day. Exhausted from thinking.

Took my hour to visit my meditation coach. It helped, even though I went back to the office afterwards. The evening ended at the posh restaurant across the street with the London visitors. We drank wine, ate dinner and chatted about politics, shopping and the ways of the world.

Today's one hour wasn't as productive as I had wished, but it was something.

Hour 1

Monday's are always the toughest days.
Wake up after a bad night's sleep. Drag myself to work. Open email.

Email: approximately a dozen notes requesting meetings for this week, and another dozen requesting to change already scheduled meetings to another time this week.

Organize to-do list. Get to-doing.

I opted to leave at 5 p.m. tonight and get started on my "hour of me."

I signed in at the gym, changed clothes and hit the treadmill. TV on. Headphones in. I ran 1.5 miles while watching the end of the 5:00 news and a few minutes of "Hardball with Chris Matthews."

Total time = 20 minutes.

I moved to the bike, attempted to put my water bottle in the holder but missed. Water everywhere. On my way back from the towel stand to wipe up my mess, I grabbed the latest "OK" magazine - Angelina wants to adopt more babies and the details of Madonna and Guy Ritchie's divorced are detailed in this issue. I selected the pre-set 20 minute hill-interval workout, and started pedaling. I opted for an episode of "King of Queens," instead of my usual news info. I don't care what the guy behind me thinks of my TV pleasure - it's my one hour. My thighs were burning after 12 miles.

Total time = 20 minutes.

Move to the leg machine, strap myself in, and start my 100 calf lifts. 44 pounds each leg. Calfs burning.

Music on the iPod: Cake, Distance.
Total time = 3 minutes. 1 minute each leg, 1 minute of break.

Move to the bench for sit-ups. I crunched through "Dontcha", courtesy of the Pussycat Dolls.
Total time = 4 minutes, 30 seconds.

I spent the rest of my hour stretching and it felt good. I wanted eggs for dinner. I stopped off at two grocery marts on my way home - both out of eggs. Who runs out of eggs? Starving, and annoyed that my hour was disturbed by no eggs, I grabbed a slice of cheese pizza and walked home.

I enjoyed the pizza, but I'd rather have eggs. Better luck tomorrow.

One Hour.

Starting this week, a new pact: For the rest of the month, I will devote one hour a day to me. My friend over at Legally Brunette has joined the cause for rejuvenation. After spending too much time wondering where the time goes, it's time to get time back - if only for one hour.

The problem is my day is frantic enough:
Up at 6am, at work by 7am, on the phone with London by 9am, work, work, work, work, work. Leave work between 5-6pm (depending on day's events). Home. Log on to computer. Cook quick dinner. Handle whatever family crisis has come my way. Work. Return any last-minute emails. Pass out on sofa. Move to bed. Start over.

The mission: In this chaos, find one hour for me. That means no phone calls, no computer, no work. I've never been a bubble bath and trashy magazine girl, but maybe I'll start. Or, maybe I'll use the one hour to read or watch TV. Or, maybe I'll devote an hour to a book chapter - either mine or someone else - each night.

OK. Starting today. One hour. Ready, set, go.