I started writing because my thoughts were so loud and distinct. Organizing them into stories was a way to control them, make them useful, funny, instead of tormenting. My mind has become quieter and more action oriented, equaling a a cut back in the writing.
Yesterday, the thoughts started up again. I was composing a story in my head as I biked about how only you know what is right for you. No one else can tell you what you are feeling, physically or emotionally. There is so much pushing, to be better, faster, stronger. I will be all of those things, but I can't just be those things because someone tells me to be. To the girl at the bike store: I got the beginner shoes because I'm beginning. So, to answer your question, "Are you walking or are you biking?" I'm doing both, thank you. And to the dude with the hearing aid that told me I was never going to pass him in the granny gear: My heart rate is at 90% capacity, even in the granny gear. I may need to use the dead and buried gear for some of the hills. Just keep walking your dog and if my biking bothers you, turn down the hearing aid and close your eyes. While crafting my witisisms and searching for the thread that would link all of my thoughts into an inspirational tale, I hit a rock, lost control and slammed my bike and body into a tree.
I'm covered in welts, but no serious injuries. The new moral to the story is, stop thinking about the story and focus on whatever your doing so you don't slam into a tree.