Back to the Grindstone

The fieldwork's finished, so I'm resuming my efforts to get fit. 

We took the bikes out this morning, and did our usual twenty mile run.  I haven't been out for a fortnight.  Last time I graced a bicycle, I died a thousand deaths before we'd gone five miles.

Today, I was a lot better.  I think that over the last few weeks, I've been suffering from exhaustion.  The good news is that I've still managed to retain a basic level of fitness.  So I've resumed the pilates and a bit of yoga, and next week I'll get back to fitting in some fragmentary workouts.  I'm going to take it easy at first - I think hurling myself into it wholeheartedly has helped to aggravate the sciatica.

I'm confident that I'm fit enough to get up a modest fell, at any rate.  That is, if I ever get the opportunity!  I'm not so rejuvenated that I've dragged Hector out to fit in a few studies and concerti, but I'm confident that I'll resume normality.

The only problem is the writing.  I'm in a complete dither with my novel.  It's as if I've dismantled a very complex tapestry because of a perceived flaw, and now I'm sitting amongst a pile of neatly bundled-up skeins of very fine wool which have to be turned back into a new, improved creation, and it's such a huge task that I don't know where to start.  The tapestry metaphor is probably an appropriate one, given the importance of Odysseus and Penelope...

I suppose it's evidence that while I've bounced back from my recent intensive bout of fieldwork physically, mentally I'm still very jaded.  I need that break so badly.  To quote the old telly advert for insurance, 'I want to be somewhere else'.

Like indulging in some retail therapy here:-

Or revelling in some serious scenery here:-

 

There's nothing for it.  I guess I'll have to take refuge in my Julia Bradbury videos...

Back to the Grindstone

The fieldwork's finished, so I'm resuming my efforts to get fit. 

We took the bikes out this morning, and did our usual twenty mile run.  I haven't been out for a fortnight.  Last time I graced a bicycle, I died a thousand deaths before we'd gone five miles.

Today, I was a lot better.  I think that over the last few weeks, I've been suffering from exhaustion.  The good news is that I've still managed to retain a basic level of fitness.  So I've resumed the pilates and a bit of yoga, and next week I'll get back to fitting in some fragmentary workouts.  I'm going to take it easy at first - I think hurling myself into it wholeheartedly has helped to aggravate the sciatica.

I'm confident that I'm fit enough to get up a modest fell, at any rate.  That is, if I ever get the opportunity!  I'm not so rejuvenated that I've dragged Hector out to fit in a few studies and concerti, but I'm confident that I'll resume normality.

The only problem is the writing.  I'm in a complete dither with my novel.  It's as if I've dismantled a very complex tapestry because of a perceived flaw, and now I'm sitting amongst a pile of neatly bundled-up skeins of very fine wool which have to be turned back into a new, improved creation, and it's such a huge task that I don't know where to start.  The tapestry metaphor is probably an appropriate one, given the importance of Odysseus and Penelope...

I suppose it's evidence that while I've bounced back from my recent intensive bout of fieldwork physically, mentally I'm still very jaded.  I need that break so badly.  To quote the old telly advert for insurance, 'I want to be somewhere else'.

Like indulging in some retail therapy here:-

Or revelling in some serious scenery here:-

 

There's nothing for it.  I guess I'll have to take refuge in my Julia Bradbury videos...