Shattered

I woke up this morning with aching quads and absolutely no recollection of an activity that would have caused them to be sore. It should be noted that at no point in the weekend was I inebriated enough to explain such a blackout. So the fact is, I am sore from life. Not a life that finds me regularly above 10k feet, instead a life that regularly finds me in front of the computer for 10+ hours.

In some ways I'm OK with this. The daily whir of the here and now. The projects I'm tackling are not large and looming in the physical way of mountains. But they are no less daunting. Where I wander in the wilderness there is usually a trail, or some general sense of how to get to the end point. There is a plan. Gear. Rations. But these days the goal has only the occasional vague cairn. There were no maps at the trailhead. I don't know the mileage. I can only hope to find what I need along the way, and be satisfied enough with the journey to keep moving.

Sometimes it's exhausting. The not knowing. The questioning. And that's the part that bothers me the most. That it's exhausting in the wrong kind of way. I need sweat. And scenery. And I need to remember that there is always time for the things that you really want.

So next time my quads ache, I'll be able to explain it. I'm in planning mode. But there's no reason this journey can't have a little sweat and scenery every day too.