24 years ago today, December 5, 2001, I started writing my Odyssey.
As of this year, I've now been singing these songs for half of my life.
That hit me as I was talking to a myth class at UIC after my 387th performance of Joe's Odyssey, my last show of 2025. I mentioned it to the students, as usual an amazing and diverse group. The professor (and my friend) piped up that my piece was older than the students (true) and all of us shared a good laugh as I rolled my eyes.
24 years. 387 performances.
These numbers are crazy.
2025 was a big year for crazy numbers: in July I hit 500 total performances of Homeric epic and in November, just four weeks ago, I ran 100 miles at the Tunnel Hill 100 in southern Illinois.
Over the years I've very consciously cultivated the skill of moving on quickly from both positive and negative outcomes. I think it's suited me well as a professional artist, an amateur endurance athlete, and a human being (I guess these are three different things?).
But very recently, in light of a year full of big numbers, I've tried to change the way I process my accomplishments. I've been giving myself more leeway to let them linger in my consciousness. I'm interested in allowing these numbers that represent experiences to integrate into who I am with more intention and appreciation.
They are who I am.
On December 5, 2001, I wrote the very first words of my Odyssey: Who am I?
And for 24 years, that song has been both the question asked and the answer given.