I don’t remember titling this post. As in, I must have typed it and I got lost in my thoughts and blinked down at the page reading “something’s wrong” as if it came from nowhere. I don’t remember.
But that’s a pretty strong subconscious message to type, so let’s unpack it for a minute.
Something’s wrong . . . as in I am definitely up too late right now, my routine blown this week.
Something’s wrong . . . as in my head is spinning about work, about work, about work and I planned to do some more tonight but I didn’t. I’ll pay for that.
Something’s wrong . . . as in I didn’t do the last putzing cleaning while I turned my movie on, as I planned. I ate taquitos. And peppermint chocolate.
Something’s wrong . . . as in I didn’t write this week. Well, barely, but not even sentences. I don’t break streaks easily, but there you are.
Something’s wrong . . . as in sometimes I say yes to more than I should and I don’t want to let anyone down.
Something’s wrong . . . as in I haven’t quite figured out how to fit the right time in my day with my the extra running coaching and learning and the extra working and pushing and everything else is getting shoved to the sides and I try to keep up.
Something’s wrong . . . as in I am still up too late.
Nothing’s wrong . . . as in I am okay and happy and grateful . . . and a little pissy today and today’s pass. A little angry at the pressure that didn’t release even after running with a metronome. Up, up, up, up, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3 . . .
So something’s right in the deep breaths I take in the morning and before bed. And something’s right in the cold air on my cheeks, running drills in the dark. And something ‘s right in the way I try to be honest, try to take proper stock, try to keep resetting, resetting, resetting.
That’s the secret of rhythm, of habits, of this year and the last. Resetting, resetting, resetting.
And sleeping too. Something’s very right about that.
With Love,
Natalie