Writing, writing, rewriting.
I've also been *gasp* starting to hit the gym.
Apparently my health hasn't been as good as that little mirror in my head (that only sees me at that one moment in time when I was at my absolute best) has been telling me.
You see, not long ago I noticed that I've started to get winded climbing a set of stairs, a specific set of stairs that I've had to climb every day. And not a long set of stair by any means.
As someone who, maybe 2 years ago, managed to do the CN Tower stair climb, without stopping, in 27mins and 15 seconds... well, it came as a shock.
You see, in my mind's eye, I'm still that bright, sprightly young chap that used to rock climb 3 days a week.
But that's just not true anymore.
One of the hardest things to do -- as a writer, or as a human being -- is to crack the glass of your own self-image. To be able say 'okay, what's the reality here? Where am I at, really?'
For a long time now I've looked at myself in a mirror and all I've seen is my face at that one specific angle that makes me look the best. Head tilted down, cheekbones up, 3/4 view.
Hell yeah, you sexy beast you.
But the truth is an insidious thing, it snakes its way into your illusions, pokes holes in your cloud. And the next thing you know: You're falling.
The truth is that I've put on a few pounds since then, lost a few pounds of muscle. Become a tad more sedentary since my son was born (and, really, lifting the kid around isn't as much of a workout as people seem to say...).
I'm slower, getting tired easier. Getting stressed out easier.
I've noticed that it's getting hard to think, let alone be creative.
I'm not sure what it was about that simple set of stairs, why my body rejected them like a cancerous growth, but the reality soon became plain to see. I was standing there, sweating, wheezing... over what?
Oh, and don't think I tried to make every excuse in the book -- it's hot out; I'm over-dressed; I haven't had lunch yet.
But the truth is the truth. I can back away from it if I want, but it's not going to get better on its own.
Luckily, I do have the benefit of knowledge that I have gotten myself into shape before. I know it's possible, I know my limits (though... well... rediscovering them may be a problem)... it just takes work.
So here's the plan -- and hell, I don't know if I can pull this off, or if my body's going to come crashing down around me or not -- but I'm going to give it a shot:
30,000 calories in 30 days.
I don't have a lot of time, I don't have a lot of energy... but I don't have any more excuses. I simply can't keep going the way that I am.
The plan so far, to try and get my heart into shape, is to do a crapload of Cardio mixed with a bit of strength/core training.
Basically, this means Hill Training, and lots of it.
One of the great things about going this route is that the bikes at my gym have a feature where I can store my progress on a USB stick.
Maybe I can figure out a way to post it here.
It's hard to make change. It's hard to push the excuses out of frame. Believe me, there isn't a whole hell of a lot of free time in my day. But something's gotta give.
And so this is the journey I'm on now. I'm a new father/wanna-be paid writer who's run out of excuses. Getting my ass into shape while trying to get my show bible/pitch into some sort of sale-able format.
It's work, dammit.
And it's gotta be done.
Day One starts
Wish me luck.