I'm tired.When it comes to reasons why I don't write much or why I've not written much in recent memory, the above is but a sampling as to the excuses at the ready. Understudies await in the wings, too.
I have papers to grade.
Need to fix dinner.
Dishes won't wash/dry themselves.
I'd rather go for a run/ride/swim.
And that's just sad.
As an undergraduate, I served as newsletter editor for the local cycling club, often penning filler for the blocks of whitespace not occupied by ads, graphics, or other content generated by the spartan few members who cared enough to not only ride with the group but to write for it, as well. This was in addition to the reams of literary analysis and other tripe I turned out in order to earn a degree in English.
And then I all but quit writing.
The creation of this blog was to serve as a chronicle of training for triathlon, but those number to the extent that grains of sand say "wow"—to say nothing of the fact that my glory days of triathlon are seemingly long passed. Yet I still urge myself to continue to write.
And write I will, I suppose.
There is no set audience. There is no set of shareholders to appease. There is no set agenda. And, so, for tonight I just needed to write. To eliminate the excuses. To push through whatever barriers there were—and there were many.
This post has been crafted over the course of several hours, across several devices. And, somehow, it made it to you.
Hopefully, there will be more. Maybe not tomorrow and maybe not the day after that. But certainly in the days to come. The gift of communicating is one we owe to one another, no matter the occasion.
Thanks for reading.