Last week I tried to take a mental break. Ran without gadgets a couple of times, ran a reasonably relaxed 9 miler on Sunday. It felt good. Brought back a bit of the enjoyment of running.
I've been trying to take a step back in almost everything: relax, relent, let go. I somehow turn around and find my life tightly controlled: workout regimens (such as they are), consumption, scheduling...I worry a lot about habits. The truth is that I have pretty healthy habits, for the most part, but I'm always trying to fit in a new one, get better at something, so on and so forth. Turns out that level of obsessing about one's life is kind of exhausting. I thought I was being mindful, but there's got to be a happy medium of mindfulness. Put another way, "mindfulness" surely means observance and allowance more than trying to cram the self into a neat little compartment.
Life is certainly a series of steps forward and back. Two days ago, I felt fine about whatever-it-was (pick a subject). I could look at myself and say "This is me. Work in progress, but not so bad." I encounter something to make me second-guess that confidence, and I'm back to attempting to shove the round peg (me) into the square hole of perfection.
Ok, that all got way too sloppy and metaphorical. I am tired and grumpy that my television reception interrupted my planned entertainment of snooty British Ichabod Crane and his creepy adventures. Also, today was a rest day. I'm always wonky on rest days. I shall finish cleaning up and get ready for bed. Run AND yoga tomorrow!
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