November 17, 2007

Biking on down the highway

So. The pants, they eez less cranky. Not completely uncranky but improved. Maybe the endorphins have helped after all. Exercise is weird. I enjoy it, I enjoy the feeling after doing it and yet, over and over again, I have the mental battle with myself to get started. Sheesh. My inner athlete gets drowned out by my not so inner couch potato. My inner athlete needs assertiveness training. I've never been able to figure this out. But much like the writing at the moment, I am gritting my teeth and making like Nike. Except this morning when I woke up with the intention of a ride just after breakfast only to find it was 28 degrees already at 9am! Luckily it cooled down so I went at midday. Only to bike through four seasons in one day in true Melbourne fashion. But I did an hour and that's not so bad when I've only just started riding again. And my butt does not seem to be sore so far!

In other news, making like Nike is helping terribly much, writing wise. The muse still continues to have the attention span of a hummingbird with ADD and the ejector button on my writing chair (you didn't know that writing chairs had ejector buttons, did you) is working just fine. I've resorted to scribbling snippets in long hand so have no idea how much I've done but it's easier than sitting down in my chair only to find myself up and wandering after two point three minutes. Times like these you just have to keep trying and something will stick eventually and it will stop being so painful. I know this. I've been here before. I just have to, like with the exercise, keep reminding myself. I think something is getting closer. The muse is perking up her ears at strange songs on the radio and making me watch weird movies, so something is definitely brewing. I just hope it's cooked soon.

And now, I have to indulge my inner revhead and go and watch Top Gear. If someone could explain to me why I, who have very little interest in cars other than to occasionally think "pretty but why would you spend that much money on a car" and less than zero interest in car racing, find this show so entertaining, I would be grateful. Maybe I'm just strangely drawn to British men with a sense of humour. Either way, excuse me while I go watch a show about cars and driving fast and brake horsepower and other stuff that goes straight over my head.

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