Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Tired Legs Tuesday.

At least I have the flowers of myself,
and my thoughts, no god
can take that;
I have the fervour of myself for a presence
and my own spirit for light.

~~H.D. 1917

Last night my legs were absolutely furious with me, and I have no one or nothing else to blame other than myself. I own that, as I do with all other results of my actions. Today? We made up like lovers who drifted apart, ready to reignite the fire that smoldered but for a day.

So as the sun rose, I climbed my bike and rode a fairly strong 10 miles as I tried to rid my thighs of the lactic acid. It worked, brought me comfort to know that I can endure pain but continue on, metaphorically speaking.

Now, with my Oly behind me and my gradebook set aside, it feels as though summer has finally arrived since this marks my first full week without "officially" working. Granted, I am taking a graduate course (my last for a while, unless I do decide to go for a supervisory certificate) which ends in three weeks. And I am trying to write some other material, including some sketches for a screenplay. But I need to shoehorn some time in the days for my collaborators' schedules, my training schedule, my family schedule.

I need a personal assistant, to be honest.

Quite often my friends say that I juggle too much. And that probably is true, for many people. But I really don't know how else to live. I always need to have something in the fire, something on fire, something wanting to be on fire. But that is how my presence exists. Without a challenge, I grow restless. Without a career, I feel useless. Without a goal, there is no reason to exist for I cannot be one of those women who rely on a man to keep them, to entertain them, to spoil them.

I have my own fervour. And it does not include driving a mini-van or gossiping with saleswomen in the office or mindlessly lying on a beach with People magazine.

It is rooted in my legs, which take me places that many others won't go, to try things that others cannot fathom. They are tired. But they are mine. They allow me to follow my spirit of light. And for that, I am quite thankful.

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