I believe the past, oh, two weeks, have been a warm-up. I ‘ve been running on the spot, swimming laps, stretching sore muscles and working out the kinks. Trying to breath. Priming for the pistol.
As of this morning, I’m at the starting line, prepped, but not ready, for the gun to go off. The sun is hot and I’m trickling sweat. That may be my fever and sinus drip but I digress.
I’m in position, squinting into the distance, trying to make out the finish line.
However, despite all my training, I know I won’t come out a winner. I’ve seen how this goes down…everyone goes down. I’ve been watching the others as they trot along, thinking they’re picking up steam, believing they have it beat and then wham, their shoelace comes undone and and they’re faced in the dirt, inhaling the dust of all those before them.
There’s a lesson in here somewhere, but I’m far too focused on my unfocussedness to go searching for it at this very moment. But right now, I’m sure it must have something to do with this:
Writing is the best pastime in the world, as you can do it in any position or condition and still see it through to fruition.
Happy Friday, peeps.