When I'm stressed, I focus on the image of Ouroboros - the snake eating its own tail.
I woke up this morning intending to run for three hours. It was hard to get out the door. After my obligatory cup of coffee, I made myself another and fought off hunger pains (I hate to eat before a run) while I got dressed. I sort of set myself up for failure there, because I pulled on my least favorite running shorts. They're old and faded and they've never fit well. I knew, in the back of my mind, that I didn't want to wear them for three hours.
I eventually dragged myself down the driveway and onto the street. As soon as I picked up my feet and kicked it into gear, my legs felt tired, my shoulders sore, my head achy from my too-tight ponytail. Blahblahblah...
It became too much. I stopped running less than a mile from my house. I turned around and ran home, exchanged my running clothes for sweats, and have been reading and writing ever since. On a beautiful Saturday. It feels wrong but it shouldn't. This exhaustion is a direct of the excitement and energy I've been feeling lately, and giving in to the tired, lazy day is not failure, but part of the cycle. Just like Ouroboros.