With summer coming to an end around here, and the “real world” staring me in the face as all of my jobs start back up at once, I am forced to contend with the sad reality that I have once again put on a few summer pounds. Too much fun, and lazy summer days filled with beer and Cape Cod Potato chips have, shall we say, softened my physique.
No big deal, I tell myself. No snacks at work this month. No beer either. A few extra workouts. I’ll get back on track, I tell myself. And if this year is anything like years past, I will.
Yesterday I wrote a post about love being the fulfillment of the law, and how I make a conscious effort to love people in order to treat them as well as I can. The post was honest, and heartfelt, and then I went about the rest of my day and realized that I was way out of practice in the art of loving. My muscles of goodness can atrophy just as quickly as my quads, and as they often do during routine-less summers, they have again.
I wish my mouth didn’t love the feeling of cold beer and salty chips, and that it didn’t love the feeling of a quick, cutting remark or snarky barb. I wish I could remember more often that the shallow satisfactions ultimately do not satisfy me, ultimately leave me bloated and undisciplined.
Like any good perpetual student, I go into September with a lot of work to do.
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