Well, it Happened.

I mentioned earlier this month about the thirty day challenge that my sibs and I have embarked upon – pushups every day.  I’ve been hitting my numbers for the most part, though there were a few days where I could only squeeze our thirty instead of fifty because my arms were spent.  I think Ghost and Efed are keeping up with it too, but I should probably check in on them.

When the calendar turned over from 2014 to 2015, I challenged myself with a blog a day.  I missed a day when I had the flu in January, and then a post didn’t go out the weekend of the time change.  So two out of the whole year isn’t bad.

Yesterday, I missed another post.  I realized it when I was lying down after the gallery opening I attended with Willis.  We got a little drunk afterward, had a lot of laughs, did a lot of talking.  When I realized I hadn’t written yesterday’s post, I groaned, and started to open my machine to write something.  And then I stopped. 

Much like the days when I’ve only been about to do 30 pushups instead of my challenged 50, I felt like my brain and my words needed a break.  I’ve been writing a fuckton as of late … the novel, my thesis, random poems, shorts, and flash.  I could have tapped out some bullshit about whatever, but that wouldn’t have served me any good.  This month’s theme is about nourishment, after all.  Skipping yesterday nourished me in a way that I needed.

A challenge is designed to be difficult.  It’s not supposed to be easy.  Much like when I’m kicking my own ass at the gym (as I did this morning) sweating out the frustrations of whatever is bothering me, covered in sweat, this challenge is just as difficult.  I’m not seeing yesterday’s missed post as a fuck up, but more as a fuck yes.  I honored my self, spirit, words, and craft.