The whole world is in love with Artificial Intelligence. I don't know all the things AI is capable of accomplishing, but people seem to love is that it makes writing easier. Letters, emails, term papers — no more struggling to find the right word and build a smart sentence. Let AI do it.

You know who doesn't love AI?

Writers.

I don't really put a lot of preparation into this space. I like to riff. But yesterday morning I had one of those breakthrough awarenesses that seems tailor-made for blogging. It is this: one of life's great pleasures is being the first to break the toilet paper seal in a newly cleaned porta-pottie on race day. So righteous. So pure. Then to step out into the first moments of a pale morning sunrise and see runners arriving to compete. Washing my hands at one of those portable outdoor soap dispensaries, then wandering off in search of a food truck for a breakfast burrito.

I mean, does it get any better than that?

I'm gambling on the October Surprise.

Every cross country season has two parts: regular season (first nine weeks) and postseason (final three weeks, leading to the State Championship). I've had a pretty good run these past twenty years, making the postseason almost every time with both the boys and girls squads. I love being in Fresno the Saturday after Thanksgiving. The atmosphere is electric, the racing is intense, and I get to see all my coaching buddies. Standing atop the podium is also pretty excellent.

Django blew out his ACL and the vet says the surgery for an old dog is beyond expensive. So he prescribes pain pills and time, saying the joint will calcify. The doggie day care acknowledges his wound by putting a yellow band around his neck to indicate his limp is an injury. Combined with his normal blue collar it looks like he's wearing the flag of Ukraine around his neck. The place is now synonymous for anxiety, unpredictability, and complete What the Fuck.

Confronting the Presidents just hit #1 on The New York Times Best Seller list. That marks my sixteenth time on the list and I think a dozen at the top.

Yet I am conflicted.

I'm a procrastinator who writes books with such total focus that the rest of my life goes on hold. It's like being a double procrastinator. So now that Taking Midway's first draft is with the publisher and I am paddling back to shore, there are a few odds and ends that need attending....

Up at 4:40 this morning. Cross country practice scheduled for 6 in Huntington Beach, a solid 30 minute drive, so I needed the early start. Sadie wanted to go out, so I let her into the backyard and looked up into the southern sky, searching for an old friend.

There he was. Orion and his belt is missing during summer but reappears in the early morning just in time for cross country season. I'll track its march across the sky into late-November and the end of the season, the warrior constellation a timeless reminder that this is autumn.

"You sound like an asshole. You know that, right?"

Calene is never less than direct. It began as an easy enough conversation: I don't think certain sports belong in the Olympics. I see the Games as the ultimate purist form of competition. A clear cut winner and a clear cut loser.

My two weeks of solitude are over. Arrived back from Mammoth High Altitude Training Camp (I used to call it a "high altitude leadership seminar" for those kids looking for something high-falutin to put on their college resume) Saturday. Door to door from the condo to our front door in just under five hours.

Made it to Mammoth. The sky is clear and blue. Temperature borderline between wearing a sweatshirt for the hike I'll take when this is written, or just going in shirtsleeves. A few too many people for my taste, but this is peak season. I just need to abide.

I took a little detour on my way here. The plan was to leave Tuesday, board the dogs, then spend a few relaxing days writing in Mammoth while waiting for the team. Calene's in South Dakota so my time is my own.

Sunday morning on the back porch. Dogs at my feet. Looking out across the arroyo to the conical hill with the satellite towers on the northern edge. Yogurt with blueberries. A press of coffee. Yellow legal pad with a to-do list for the week ahead.

I ask you: is this the behavior of a man whose wife is out of town for ten days?

My stopwatch died the other day. Ultrak 495. Matte black. Capable of recording 100 lap splits. I've been using an Ultrak for about fifteen years. To my mind, the best stopwatch on the market….t is a comforting talisman, my fingers clicking start-stop-reset without my conscious mind noting. It is my grown-up version of Linus's blanket, a security totem that soothes in ways I am not prepared to publicly examine. On race day, when staring at a final result, the watch gives me a small endorphin rush.

Hey All. I'm back. Took a couple weeks off to do some fun stuff and focus on Taking Midway. Traveled to Las Vegas for a weekend with the neighbors. I'm not a travel-with-the-neighbors kind of guy but Callie and I had a blast. Last week was the Olympic Trials in Eugene. Also a wonderful time with my brethren at the USA Track and Field Foundation.

1 p.m. Father's Day. Gift to myself: a new power washer. There's something amazing about a high pressure machine to clean every last bit of the backyard pavers and deck. It's like cleaning your physical soul. I tend to do this barefoot, just because there's something about walking around without shoes on when the sun is out and the pavers are warm.

Taking London is in stores everywhere today! I am bolstered by strong early reviews and so eager to walk into my local shop and catch sight of that gorgeous blue cover and its images of Churchill and Spitfires.

I have this habit when I write. Just to keep myself honest, I start every day by writing down the current word count. The goal is to add 1,000 more before knocking off for the day. That's about three double-spaced pages.

I tiptoe into the manuscript, cleaning up the previous day's work to remind me where I left off. Hemingway was a big fan of not thinking about a project between the end of one day and beginning of the next, believing the subconscious would sort out any issues.

I believe this to be true.

Monday morning. June marine layer hanging over Southern California. Drinking stern black coffee from my new Yeti press and looking forward to finding today's words. Just back from a weekend in San Diego with Callie, where I surprised myself by not opening my laptop even once. Thanks to all of you who sent birthday wishes. I read and appreciated each one.

If you've watched The Crown, you know one of Taking London's heroes. Peter Townsend (not The Who guitarist) flew Hawker Hurricanes in the Battle of Britain. The gripping, action-packed details can be found in TL. Suffice to say, the man was a great pilot. He survived several near death experiences in aerial combat.

The California State Track Meet is being held this weekend in Fresno. I am not there. Qualifying for state is tough, with five straight weeks of do-or-die meets. Despite having the best coaching season of my career, none of my runners got through. Split seconds made the difference. That's track and I'm not complaining. Records were set, personal bests were improved, the runners are all excited about the future.

Mark your calendars: June 15. 2 pm. Barnes & Noble in Aliso Viejo, California. Just in time for Father's Day, I'm doing a speech and signing for Taking London. It's a treat to stand in a bookstore and talk about any new book I've written, but this one's special. I feel like I've written at a really high level with TL — action-packed storytelling that will keep you turning the pages. "Top Gun meets the Nazis" is my elevator pitch.

I am not an organized person. My office is in chaos, my car is my closet, and I leave so many clothes by the side of my bed that I sometimes long for a valet, as if I were Lord Grantham — if only to help me fold and put away clothes.

When I coach, however, I don't have that option.

Fast planes, deadly dogfights, brave pilots: the Battle of Britain has no shortage of heroes. So as I sat down to write Taking London, the first challenge was figuring out which individuals would help tell the story, Winston Churchill was the obvious choice to be a primary character. He's the tentpole on which the narrative rests. Air Marshal Hugh Dowding was also indispensable. Though relatively unknown in America, his brilliance has led to monuments and postage stamps in his honor in England.

When I signed the contracts to write a book about the Battle of Britain, my first thought was that it would be easy to research. Plenty of other books about the topic. Lots of museum displays. Actual BoB aircraft still flying after all these years, as I knew from a previous visit to the Imperial War Museum's Duxford annex. But after reading Len Deighton's Fighter to better understand the story arc and begin to contemplate a way to tell the story from a unique perspective I realized I had a problem: too much information.

Just six weeks to go!

The obvious question about my choice of topic is how does a writer in Orange County, California come to write a book about the Battle of Britain? The Lord works in mysterious ways, but as near as I can divine it all began with the 1969 movie.

Taking London comes out seven weeks from Tuesday. I've been doing this a long time so I know it's best to try not to think about it. The gestation cycle is so long between finishing a book and seeing it in print. I will be euphoric and perhaps weep when I receive my first box of finished copies, cracking it open to hold the new book in my hands for the first time.