The Double Check and the HateCycle

Today was a weird one. Had lots to do, ended up doing very little of it, not least because with the organisational idiocy for which I'm legendary in my close circle, I'd booked two doctors appointments for the same morning. So we schlepped to the first one - to have blood taken for an annual diabetic review next week - and I was vampirised with remarkable efficiency. One thing to be said for taking blood-thinning medications is that getting blood taken is usually no drama whatsoever. Then we hot-footed it to the hospital for the other, bigger event of the day - a cardiology appointment, which unbeknown to me these days includes a rudimentary ECG (and accompanying crop-circle waxing when the sticky pads are ripped off). So...that was fun. Fortunately, my heart behaved itself, and gave the doctor a lovely regular 50 beats per minute rhythm to study intently for ten seconds before he told me to sod off, and that he'd see me in two years.

Result!

That said, the whole thing, which took about four hours from leaving the ohuse to getting home, left me with a kind of hospital lethargy that has persisted for the rest of the day. Right now, I'm writing this before getting on the bike, and rediscovering the resentment and loathing of the machine. You know I've had a couple of knackered nights already, but this is more, or less, or certainly different to that. I'm looking across as it and hating the idea of getting on that bike.

Sigh. Where to go when that mood grabs you?
There's a quote I've tried and failed to find about the business of writing. It says something like "Anyone can write when they're inspired. The mark of a real writer is writing when you're not. Writing when you don't feel you can. Writing when it's the last thing you want to do."

The same is true of Disappearers and putting in the effort. Truth be told and bottom line, no-one's going to care if you don't do the exercise. No-one's going be shocked or scandalised. For the most part, unless you're a schmuck like me and tell everyone, no-one's even going to know.

But you will. And whne you next get on your scales, you'll be lying to yourself when you dare to hope, because you won't have done the work you need to do. And when the results don't come, you'll know why they haven't. Your choice, as a grown-up. Have days off, have nights off by all means, I don't mean to get all drill sergeant on your ass. But if your only rationale is the childlike "I don't wanna!" then shut your yap, and do what you need to do.

Does it help you loathe it less? No, of course not. I still hate the idea of getting on that bike right now. But it's an hour out of my life, and at the end of it, it'll be done. The angst of not doing it would probably last longer and be more painful.

So - to the HateCycle, Disappearing Man!