“Oft hope is born when all is forlorn.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King
Ever feel like giving up? Lord knows I do, and apparently this mailbox does, too.
I know I’ve been away from this blog for a way-too-long while, but I just wanted to check back in and say that I have spent a little time travelling along that well-worn path that leads to hopelessness and despair, but the good news is that I checked myself soon after wrecking myself… and I’m on my way back.
Last spring – like a lot of folks in these problematic pandemic times – I started working from home. Easy access to snacks and alcohol led to me packing on pounds. When I finally worked up the nerve to step back on a scale, the number (305) was disheartening and disappointing, but not at all surprising.
At my daughter’s suggestion, I took up intermediate fasting – a medieval form of torture that involves not having anything but bitter, bitter black coffee before 10 a.m. and not eating anything - not even a bowl of peanut brittle - after 6 p.m.
Mornings were especiallybrutal under this restrictive new plan, so I decided to start going on a long early hike to take my mind off my crippling hunger pangs.
So that’s what I’ve been doing. Every day for the past six months, I lace ‘em up tight and hit the road, Jack. I get in about seven miles a day and – I’m not gonna lie – I’m feeling pretty damn fine. Yesterday, I weighed in at 255, down a solid 50 lbs from whence I began. Not too shabby…
Now that I have a little more hope in my heart and a little more spring in my step, I feel like sharing my journey a little. I’m committed to this daily walk, so I thought I’d let you know what I see while I’m out there putting one foot in front of the other.
Today I saw despair.
Tomorrow I see hope.