Loads.
I don’t recognise the body where muscles are turning to fat. The body that constantly feels tired and wants to be fed junk. I refuse to recognise the listless and apathetic mind that no longer feels uncomfortable, no longer feels challenged. From this beige perspective, the summer feels like a happy dream. The memory of it burns under the same jealous eyes that watch people going about day-to-day on their bikes. Swimming just doesn’t do it. No adrenaline, no anaerobic test of strength, no smell of the moist earth, no speed, no distance, no solitude, no camaraderie… and a timetable… a bloody timetable! Oh, so I can only exercise after 20.45 on a Monday, 20.30 Wednesday, 20.00 Friday? No wonder so many people don’t bother.
It’s no big trial. It’s not a disability. It’s just a mental man-cold but it really does suck.
