The Tortoise and the Hare. One of the earliest stories with which we are gifted as children. Better slow, we are told, better steady. We laugh at the hare's misfortunes, his painful comeuppance for his pride. But secretly, oh how secretly, we want to be that rabbit. What fun to race ahead, ears streaming behind, legs pumping, to feel the ground fall away beneath us. Even if breath fails, legs falter, even if the grand prize is lost. For those minutes, those first few glorious minutes...wouldn't it be grand?
Yes, I speak as the tortoise in this scenario, grating along, lumbering beneath the weight of who I am, a massive shell of excuses from which I cannot escape, can only carry it with me, peering ahead with cautious eyes. But what can I say?
The words are fighting me. But I'm writing. I've missed, I think, one day of writing this week. This is, for me, a victory. But I'm not producing the volume I had hoped. 1345 words this week. I still have tomorrow. I could still pull it out to the 5K I was aiming for but it seems unlikely. It would require an infusion of the rabbit spirit, I think. And I'm not sure I'm capable. But, I have to try.
That said, I'm reading 1984 by George Orwell. Again, I think I've only missed a day of reading. So I'm pleased there. And enjoying the book much more than I expected to. Often, classics disappoint. But, 100 pages in and I'm intrigued, a little creeped out and hoping that there's still a spark of rebellion in this terrifyingly apathetic society. Not sure why but I suspect that, while at this point the book has great possibilities, the ending will be depressing and dark. Please tell me otherwise?
Anyhoo, checking in...from behind and making my slow careful way toward the oh so far distant finish line.
To those of you who are racing ahead...you're awesome and I so wish I were you right now. For anyone else lumbering along in the back...I'm glad for the company and let's keep trucking!