December 17, 2019
It feels like I’ve spent my whole life starting from scratch. Dreaming and fantasizing about when I’ll be really, truly free in this discipline – Parkour – that I’ve been in love with since I was child. Dreaming and fantasizing about when I’ll have unbridled control over my body, through land and through air. Dreaming and fantasizing about the strength in my muscles, ready to be utilized whenever I need it.
Dreaming and fantasizing, but never getting anywhere far with it.
Having to keep starting over, because life – and my own self-sabotage – gets in the way. School. Work. My family’s restrictions. My own often-deteriorating mental health.
I thought I was doing better, this year. Not as well as I wanted, not as consistent, but definitely better than I had been in a while. Only to get knocked off course for over three months.
And now I’m starting over. Again. Weaker, heavier, and slower than I was. Having to play catch-up with what was already very little progress.
It felt good moving again, even with the still-tight hold of the stagnation that had seeped into my body. It felt good being outside, trying to recover some of what I’ve lost.
But I don’t want to have to do this anymore. I don’t want to have to be at this place again, three steps back from my one step forward.
It already feels like I’m too old. At 26, if I had just stuck to what I’ve always wanted to do – if I had ignored the noise from the outside world and inside my brain – I’d have had over a decade of experience under my belt. Instead, I’m a lousy beginner, and it feels like I’m so far behind everyone else.
So I am hoping, by finally starting this blog, by keeping myself accountable, by committing myself for good this time, I can start to progress significantly enough for it to matter.
My writing skills are rusty, but then again so is my movement, so I’m starting over in more ways than one.
Here’s to it being for the last time.