I Think I Sprained My Eyes; Or, Book Marathoning Might Not Be For Me

As soon as my parents left after pie last Thursday, I hit the books. I only stopped reading to sleep and reheat Thanksgiving leftovers. What I learned was that I was not made for book marathons.

8277e978adaf7bcc37ce5f42b6e529d6I survived until about Sunday afternoon when the symptoms hit:

  1. Brain buzz. I jumped from fantasy to contemporary Greece, then India, over to early nineteenth century Ireland, then to Tasmania and off to WWII-era Thailand, and ended up in war torn Ukraine before the battle of Stalingrad. Seriously, I felt book-lagged. Jumping genres didn’t help either.
  2. Eye strain. Oooh, my eyes hurt all through Monday.
  3. Bad TV cravings. By Sunday I was tempted to burn through more episodes of Chopped instead of reading, but I powered through and finished two books that day.

At least I didn’t get hand cramp from holding up books and my iPad for hours on end. The book curls are paying off.

I’m a little sad about this, to be honest. Every few months, when Dewey’s 24 Hour Readathon rolls around, I see the bookish folk on my Twitter feed sharing updates with pages read, cups of tea consumed, and snacks eaten with one hand while the other holds books. I don’t have the stamina to go 24 hours. Six, seven hours in a row is all I can manage.

Is there a personal book trainer out there?

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