Damned If I Do...

...damned if I don't.

I feel like I've been majorly neglecting this little corner of cyberspace--no, I don't FEEL it, I KNOW it--and I'm none to pleased with myself about it. Ever since the arrival of VN two+ years ago, I've lost much of my ability to multi-task as well as those little energy reserves that kept me going (long after I should have stopped) without my knowing. Those are gone. In their place seems to be the oozing Fuck It monster, which can come in handy when you're at the breaking poing and need to just CHILL, but isn't so good when it comes to food/drink/exercise. The Fuck It monster lets me work, but insists that I play, too. Insists. Insists that I "deserve" that beer/burger/night on the couch. Big nasty monster. Feh on you.

What I think I need to do now is go back and read what I've been writing on here for lo these months-into-years. Either that's gonna kick me into gear or it's going to depress me even further.

So here I go...watch me weep/hurl/laugh...listen as the "mmmhmmm's" come in quick succession. Self-observation as it leads to self-admontion--no thanks, I'd rather keep eating until I can't move (not). Just please, make it so that I can get back on track with SOMETHING besides valium and exercises for the vestibular system.

more thanks due

Yesterday, around mile 42, with a tail/crosswind, I felt mighty. Pedaling hard, really using my lungs and legs, I got my gratitude on. And I made it home (by way of a pint of Pliny the Elder-- a killer IPA). And I can walk today, which is not a miracle, but a good, good sign.