I've got to buy some shoes. These ones are getting lose; my feet are shrinking in the Sun, and it ain't fun.

My body is a funny thing. With the exception of the 8 final months of the mission and a week here and there, I’ve exercised at least three days a week since I was fourteen. Speaking of that time cumulatively, I’d say about 40% was spent running, 50% lifting weights, 10% doing random stuff like basketball, swimming, chasing lady-types, running from lady-types, etc. Looking back, I think I kept up this regiment partially at the expense of my grades. I did it to keep my sanity, and it got me through my major. I’m still trying to decide if it was worth it.

Anyway, this semester presented new challenges. My classes are of a different breed, and I’m not nearly as prepared as my new classmates. I have much less free time, and my physical routine has been the first to go. In the past, when I’ve missed a day out on the road or in the gym, physical energy quickly accumulates. If I don’t find a way to expend it, everything gets out of whack and I can’t do anything right in any area of my life. Due to school, work, and, ahem, other things, the past month and a half has dropped me down to barely twice a week. Last Thursday, for the first time in over ten years I found I didn’t WANT to go to the gym.

The sensation almost feels like fear. But wait, fear is what other people have. Still, if it IS fear, why am I feeling it? The thing that I like about racing or lifting is that no matter how good you get, it’s always hard, and, in my case, there is always infinite room for improvement. So why should the 5-lbs-weaker version of me hesitate? The difficulty is the same; the room for improvement is the same. The differences between the current version and the January version are unnoticed by everyone but me.

A few thoughts:
1. Going back to the gym forces me to acknowledge that January version could kick my ass. I’m afraid of him. The human side of me would rather be ignorantly neutral than understandably weak.
2. Going back emphasizes my digression which is in itself depressing.
3. My shoulder still will not permit military presses. I don’t like feeling restricted.
4. I’ve lost my drive to improve myself physically in favor of knowing my way around Navier-Stokes equations.
5. I’m in a funk. T’will pass with the season.

Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s a shift in ambition. I don’t know. The only certainty is that typing on this stupid machine is the last place I should be on a day like today.