Have you recently had one of those mornings where the daily routine just doesn’t feel adequate? Of course, you have. We’ve all had those mornings especially during the last few months.
The productivity hits a wall, the extraordinary ordinary becomes utterly monotonous and even the sparkling, if not slightly obsessive, self care routine falls flat. Yes. You know what I’m feeling.
Well, this has been a week full of those mornings. I took a day off working out on Sunday, God forbid. Monday I lay in bed trying to think of a reason I could take another day off.
While my wife got up, made coffee, and took the dogs out, I struggled to roll out my mat to stretch and I’m pretty sure I’ve not swished with coconut oil or had my ‘first thing in the morning 8 ounces of water’ since last Friday.
The stretching habit has to be at least approached if not completed in good stead. The back muscles, especially around L4 and L5 are still recovering from surgery and they get so tight.
Additionally, it’s my twice daily excuse to listen to the calm app while stretching and thinking – some people call this meditation. My mind moves too fast for that, but I give it a go.
The struggle to get with the program has just been prolific this week. We’re now coming over the hump and staring down the latter part of the week. I dragged my ass to the beach this morning for a paddle session and I worked hard for almost an hour.
My efforts were rewarded with a huge pod of rays, loads of fish, and gloriously clear Pacific ocean, but the paddle did not feel amazing and cathartic and rejuvenating. After walking the mile and half home my muscles were tighter than a polo player’s thighs on a pony. I just felt tired.
This evening we piled into the jalopy and rode into town for sunset. It was a glorious one, full of pink, orange, purple, and such. Dogs were swimming, fish were jumping, and though I took and posted amazing photos and video, I just wasn’t feeling the usual sense of wow.
I’m still trying to make some sense out of my feelings this week. I’m feeling a bit broken from the news, from the uncertainty, from the ever growing knowledge that I really don’t know what I’m doing.
Maybe it’s the reflection I started on Monday when I wrote a letter to the board of supervisors of my hometown encouraging them to change the racist road signs of my childhood street.
I don’t know. But I do know that tomorrow is another day and we’re never promised anything.
I’ll set my alarm and I’ll get up and take dogs out and make coffee and try to bring this week back around.
Maybe I’ll remember the water and coconut oil.