Pushing. Hard.

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It can't look like it.  But you would have to be in my skin to know.  It feels like I've gone three rounds with a champ.  With one of my arms behind my back.  Taking more than giving, that's for sure.  Punishing.  And yet... I can't just quit.  Sometimes I stop, but that is when I have no choice.  When I have a choice I can't stop any more than I can go when I can't.  Stuck, one way or the other.  Not sure I like either, but I'll take being stuck in gear than having no ability to engage gears.  I can't shift gears, mind you.  I'm just crawling.  I will try to get some things done while going forward.  This weekend is looking very nice. 

When I finished in the garden last night, I was wheezing and and barely able to finish what I did.  I am sore today, not from the physical exertion, but from pushing beyond my level of exhaustion by a long shot.  And... I'll probably do it again today.  Tomorrow will be a day of cooking, but that'll still be a bit.  And Friday... depends on how that turns out.  But I will be doing something every day until Saturday, plus my daily stuff that I am keeping, or adding to, the lineup.  Next week?  A hike.  Maybe two.  And whatever remnants of plumbing and minor tasks I have in mind.  Oh, and I'll keep trying to roll my day back into the morning.  That part is brutal all on it's own.  But I'm... really shoving to get that done.  It might well be a temporary victory.  But if I can push my mornings back to the 5:00 or 6:00 start, even for a few days, or a week, I'll be grandly satisfied.  If I can hold that for a month I'll buy myself something nice.  Perhaps an ice pack to uncross my eyes.  We'll see.

More coffee.  Waking is tough today.  Later.