Well, let’s just call my daily writing challenge a fail and move on, shall we? It’s not so much that I am unable to sit and write every day, I actually enjoy writing quite a bit. I think I’ve created other, unnecessary, blocks for myself. I sit down to write and I realize I’ve failed to take any pictures, and sometimes taking said pictures, of myself anyway, requires stepping outside of my comfort zone. Does it matter that I don’t have image heavy posts? Probably not. Mostly I’m compelled to document and share my journey, and for me that means writing about it. Will I write more if I remove this self-created pressure? Maybe, and perhaps if I revamp my goal with this caveat (no pressure to snap daily running selfies) I’ll find a happy medium for myself. Okay, enough of the meta talk about blogging. I’ve probably written more about writing than anything else. Let’s talk running.
You guys, I failed to write yesterday, which I suppose means technically speaking my 30 day writing challenge was a bust, but like anything else (especially running), I’m picking myself back up and keeping this thing rolling. This is day 12, but I missed day 11 (in case you’re keeping count too). Yesterday, well, I don’t even know. It was busy, I got home from work and was so relieved that this week was almost over and that I would be sleeping in this morning that I created my only little party. By that I mean, I excitedly curled up on the couch to stay up a little later to finish my book. I live on the edge. At any rate, taking a few minutes out of this wild night to blog completely slipped my mind.