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# Fleece
- URL: https://dianaludwick.com/fleece/
- Published: 2026-10-23T01:53:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-11-01T22:13:46.000Z
- Description: “Fleece,” an exhaustive snapshot in the day of the pursuit of the Golden Leaf, a daily goal for Walktoberwritten Thursday, October 22, 2026 poem 295 in a series of 365 poems written by Diana Ludwick in 2026. Photo: "Search for the Golden Leaves," Diana Ludwick © 2026.
- Author: Diana Ludwick
- Tags: 2026 Poetry Challenge, Poem, October, Walktober, Company, Corporate, Shivering, Challenge, Friends, Walk, Chores, Less Than Fully Hinged, Trainers, Fleece, Golden Fleece, Jason, Tread, Treadmill, Rochester

I flick my wrist for the eightieth time in three blocks  
Have I hit 10,000 steps? *No.*

The ticker holds firm at 972 –   
As in 0972  
As in not even a tenth of the way   
towards completing today’s challenge.

I’m sweating and shivering, both.  
It’s 39 degrees Fahrenheit.  
And it’s 5:42 in the morning.  
And I’m huffing to meet my friend at six.  
And then I’ve got to be back home,   
like, three minutes ago

Dash into the shower  
like Michael Phelps propelling off the starting block  
so that I can   
cleanse exfoliate freshen shave hydrate rebalance   
and brush scrunch shellac de-crinkle oil fluff heat puff my head fur

All of which I give myself   
seventeen minutes end to end.

It’s time to suit up, corporate out.  
I’m in for nine sedentary hours –   
and then drive-heavy family chauffeuring and chores.

Somewhere in the midst of all this swirl  
I am on the Search for the Golden Leaf.  
Scarier than any Halloween scare house,  
my company-sponsored Walktober haunts me,   
settles over me; buries me in guilt.   
*Can't let down my team!*

And so here I am, less than fully hinged.  
Eleven thirty two in the evening  
and convincing my feet to go into socks, trainers.  
Tricking myself into rolling the speed up, up, up.   
Sweating on my treadmill, oops, *Gah, no credit*! –   
Now willing my watch heart monitor to connect to my Tread.   
*Shake shake shaking* my wrist at the screen, screaming,   
**Connect! Connect!**  
  
Minutes to midnight,  
glistening in earnest  
I see the pedometer roll over  
like the bones in my anticipatory casket:  
“10,0002.”

Keep your fleece, Jason.   
My Walktober app pings:   
*You Have a New Leaf!*  
Leaf found,  
Sanity lost;  
it’s time to call it even.  
*Enough.*