I was eating a cookie. I could feel the refined sugar assaulting my system, the baked carbohydrates. I could feel my brain revelling in it, craving more.
And then I closed the container.
The cookie, delicious and full of delight as it was, was just a vacation. It was just a place to visit. But I wouldn’t want to live in a vacation. It wouldn’t be long before I didn’t consider it a vacation anymore.
Training with weights is a vacation. As is jogging. And skipping rope. And swimming. Biking. Rock Climbing. They are all productive vacations meant to reinforce the collection of thoughts, movements, actions and behaviour that constitute me.
I want to be better at these things not in and of themselves. I want to be better at these things so that I can one day consider myself to be good at karate and basketball. Karate and basketball are where I live and work. Everything comes back to that.
It is a shame how many days and weeks and years that I avoided my home, the places in my heart where karate and ball reside. I think that my absolute peak will never be what it could have been and it saddens me…
And then I think of the peak that I’m yet to reach and I continue my climb. Chopping wood, carrying water.