Exercise is a wretched thing, isn’t it?
You do the same things over and over, ad nauseam, and you have to just hope that you’ll be able to look back at some point and see that you’ve improved. I haven’t been actively maintaining my body or my mind for some considerable time. Exercising for the sake of maintenance is more frustrating than doing it for the sake of improvement, because success looks like a plateau.
I’m going to try to- and that’s the most I can ever pledge to a process- write 300 words, 3 times a week. 300 words (±10%) was the standard length of weekly analysis pieces we were expected to bring to class during our Masters. It’s enough to find a hook for further discussion, and isn’t overwhelming if you’re not getting a mark for it. I don’t know how long I’ll keep it going. 30 weeks seems like an appropriate milestone to aim for. I considered setting a goal of 300 entries, but that would be two years, which would be like committing to a marathon before jogging around the park.
… I suppose I should alternate writing days with 30 minute walks, now that the nerve issue in my left foot is largely fixed. I don’t want to go on a stupid little walk in a circle, and I don’t want to write half a page of nonsense that goes nowhere, and I don’t want to get off the sofa and stretch my joints! But being a creature that desires comfort above all, I’m going to have to put up with exercising to stave off aches and pains. And however much I hiss at the idea of writing, not being able to put sentences together on command makes me ache the same ache as not being able to walk around cities for hours.