Stitch in time

As you read this I am on vacation. I am not on the fancy lake house part of the vacation. Rather I am now fully ensconced in the foggy laying about reading novels part of the vacation. Blogging is like a toy that I fully and carefully wound up and is now contentedly operating on its coiled spring power. Still, I'm away for a long time so I thought I'd just step in today and give that toy one quick crank of its key to make sure it lasts all the way.

I am here doing as little as possible, but there is one unmistakable chore I still do roughly every other day. I do my exercises. These cannot run like the winding of a toy. They, like sleep, cannot be stored up. They simply have to be done in their pain inducing clockwork. They are essential to my good health. They are a tithe of pain. I respect them, but I softly dread them. I have eighteen days of vacation with only one thing to dread as it comes and one thing to triumph over at its completion: core training exercises.

But, besides health, there is a strange boon to all this unpleasant exercise. Focused as I am on the the bitterness of preparing to exercise, and the gloating, exultant highs of having just completed my exercising, I generally forget to even consider the upcoming, inevitably tragic end of vacation. I know it is coming eventually, but with all these brutal workout sessions between me and it, it might as well be a million miles away.