I’ve noticed that it is much easier for me to write about depressing things rather than successes. As luck would have it, I’m never too short of the former.
Since I’ve gotten back to London, I’ve been in horrible mood, even for me. I feel as though I’ve been allocated my own personal hole that I have to carry around at all times. It sits neatly enough under the bottom of my stomach, but presents a problem since I can’t seem to fill it with anything.
I should be happy, but of course I’m not. I’m weak, tired and achy. I attempted to go for a cycle, but had to stop. I fell off endless V2 and 3’s at the wall. Injuries that I never knew I had are beginning to appear and of course the shoulder is acting up a bit. I haven’t been able to sleep (though that’s not exactly new). Argh. I just feel so unhappy.
Why. I don’t know. I thrive on negativity and a success has distorted my world view? Flintoff is out of the Test squad? One more British ‘summer’ to put up with? Who knows.
When I got injured I was on an upward curve and since I've been injured, I've been able to maintain 'well I would be climbing harder but I'm injured'. I don't quite have that excuse anymore and I think part of the reason for being down is acknowledging the fact that I was deluding myself. I never had any grand plans; I just thought that I could do better. Maybe I can’t. Or maybe I can.
Sometimes I don’t know which one weighs heavier.
I just got an invite to go to Dartmoor, which I am excited about – Rippled Wall will be mine! Although it will probably rain, be plagued by midges, holidaying school children, or be declared a SSSI and therefore off limits. If it isn’t, I’ll certainly be too weak to climb it (see – negative thinking just works better).
Oh well, if all of my whinging has got you down, you can laugh at my attempt to make pathetically easy problems in North Wales look difficult. It was all that I could manage to film on account of the rain, midges, earthquakes, school children, etc.