It’s not just the wind that blows hard just now. The days are uphill and the last few of weeks have brought consecutive uphill struggles. Long hours and headwinds most of the way.
I should be packing in loads of swimming and running, wrestling with the boy, and soaking up Autumn’s last optimistic rays. Instead, I’ve been breaking sweat in front of the cathode death ray of a monitor.
Now I do like a hard day’s work. And a good sweat, preferably with the wind in your hair, blows it out of the water. But work is just like any kind of training program – if you keep it up without adequate nourishment or rest, it weakens you. The strain of pushing the same muscles constantly can cause damage.
I keep an eye on how I live and work. I can chart an increase in work commitments, and chart a sharp decline in healthy activities, family and social life, and most notably, a serious drop in healthy eating. I have also noticed that in the months where I work long hours, I have less money. Bugger!
Working super-duper hard is a badge of honour. And it’s accepted that burning the midnight oil is how that badge is forged. But when you come home to a spartan fridge, a lean hand of reminder letters dealt by the postman, and a family that gets on fine without you, then it’s time to re-evaluate how you spend your days.
I think Terry Pratchett had his finger truly on the pulse when he wrote: “It is often said that before you die your life passes before your eyes. It is in fact true. It’s called living”.
Best get on with it then.