Who Am I

 

 

I’m a continuous battle with excuses. I’m a guy swatting the devil off my shoulder only to have him return with a pitchfork and that same toothy grin.

I’m a guy who “couldn’t” compete in a triathlon because he wasn’t mentally ready and needed a year to prepare. As if it were battlefield deployment I was embarking on as opposed to a pristine lake in the mountains.

I guess the veteran with no arms or legs that swam a half mile spent the year mentally preparing. I suppose the blind man that joined him and swam tied off to a friend spent the last year strategizing just as well.

Wipe that toothy grin off your face, Hades.

Many people say I’m too hard on myself. I say I’m too easy. Those who know me know a person who doesn’t necessarily hate losing as much as he loves winning…and yet that smiling weight on my shoulder cloaked in red still finds his way atop the podium.

Go ahead start writing your book. Get your ideas organized. Get some structure in place. Nope. Too hard. Nobody cares. Not enough time in the day. Too busy.

I guess all the writers in the world have all the time in the world. I suppose back in 1963 when Stephen Hawking was told he had two years to live he phoned it in just as well.

I guess. I suppose.

I’m too hard. I’m too easy. I’m red. I’m white. I’m over it. Not really.

I’m trying.