At 3pm, I had been up only a few hours. I wanted to wake early, but my body refused. I had a plan, but my sleep ate into that. It didn’t matter. By 3pm, I was in my car, hoodie on, music blaring, on my way to Fireman’s Park. I pulled up by 3:30pm, after getting turned around, having not seen the park in the sunlight for years (only a few rendevous at night since returning).

For two hours straight I climbed hills, crossed muddy streams and leap over fallen trees. I crawled up slopes, slipping when the ground gave way, but never falling. I sprinted. I explored. I made sure every fiber of my body was used. It was only when I attempted to lift part of a fallen tree and began to see white stars did I stop exerting. I was kilometers from my car and passing out wouldn’t be a good thing to do in a wood devoid of people, at least that’s what I thought.

After hitting the store and downing whatever giant protein drink they had (skim milk), I came home. Soon after, I was jumpy, anxious to get back out. Ended up watching the Flyers’ game at a buddy’s house, then a horror movie with his wife and her friend. Not cute, but skinny enough. All the time, thinking, this is how it starts. Tomorrow, I will work my arms and chest. The next day, run the streets. All until my body says enough… then push it farther until it becomes easy. When what was difficult becomes routine, then I know I have made it, and have to find truly impossible things to overcome.