Goodnyou?: Getting Back

Wow… I've missed this space… Though it's not for lack of trying.

I've run across some unavoidable upgrades in three different programs, which has thrown a wrench in my well beaten-path-process of writing, uploading, and posting.

Unfortunately, I don't have 'as much needed' time to figure out a different approach from my tried and true… to be quite frank, I've been having a bit of a hard time finding my stride in much, since before Easter. I think that not being able to straighten my thoughts out long enough, to be formed into a documented written word, is showing just how much my thought process has come to depend on the often mindless writing in my space on Goodnyou?

You know how when you go running for the first time after you've taken a winter hiatus … and you try to pick up where you left off, keeping pace with your former summer logged stride. But before you even find your groove, your left legs is cramping, your breathing is worse than staggered, and that stitch under your rib cage is causing you to buckle over in a way that you hope no neighbors are watching.

Well that's how I feel right now, I'm mattering over minding it, ready to throw my hands in the air, turn back home, loudly declaring that running's just not my thing.

The weather has shifted, busy season is on me and there is so much that this time of year brings with it. All of my new want-to-do's, need-to-do's, got-to-do's for summer sprint, have been thrown on top of the old collected have-to-do's, time-to-do's, yearn-to-do's less than vigorous winter jog.

As Kelle Hampton would say, I'm trying to find my ebb and flow.

So right now, I'm attempting the steadying of my pace, controlling my breathing, and focusing on getting one foot, in front of the other.

I've ditched Nathan with the kids upstairs, taken my computer down to the office, and happened to have stumble upon the last Michelob Ultra in the basement fridge. {That, in itself, is a sign.} I don't necessarily like being down stairs where I can hear the kids play up, but I know this little bit of time to think, without a tiny foot kicking the key board, sweet voice asking for juice, or handsome boy expressing his imagination, is good for me.