Equinox Waxing

The longer the days grow, the harder it is to talk about doing things when instead I am just doing things.

I am waging a constant battle between healing my fingerskin and shredding it again, and slowly, with each pass of the rope over my palms, more blood and sweat builds into the fibers and it becomes mine. I am playing an endless game of chicken to see if I can pedal harder than my nerves can handle, because I know my nerves will fail before my brakes. Every time my shoes lose their traction in the mud, I experience an infinite span of time in the moment it takes for my ankles to respond and recover my balance. Each sunset that rolls away from me, I breathe in the sky and know I am alive.

The mornings when I don't wake up sore from head to toe, I know I slacked off the day before. I can't stand to sleep or wait or rest because there never seems to be enough time in the day to pummel my way through everything I want to do. I don't feel like there's anything I need to do, and that's a luxury I know I should never take for granted.

I can't wait for the next day, but I'm never in a rush to get there.

06 April 2014 18:25