I stepped outside my door and immediately could see my breath. My Yankee snow cap protected my ears from the near-freezing temperatures. I stretched in the parking lot, getting ready for my run, when a familiar black truck blinded me with its lights. My roommate walked out from the truck, dinner in hand, and stood confused--- or maybe amused--- at me dressed in running gear. Understanding that I was about to go out on a run, he asked me one question.

"Are you sober?"

While I had no alcohol in my system, perhaps my judgment was not at its clearest, clouded by romantic images of bursting through the cold and instantly returning to a state of top-notch physical condition. I have run a mere two times this semester: a five-mile trek around the main streets of Gainesville and a three-mile race to fight sickle cell anemia. At the time of these runs, however, I had built myself into my peak physique, the most healthy and into shape I had been since I was a buff second grader. Over the last few weeks, during my battles with apathy/exhaustion/exams, I lost the desire and time to engage in sport. My lack of exercise, complemented by my unhealthy eating habits, gradually pushed me further and further from a healthy body. My pants are no tighter, and I can still sport an XS shirt in comfort, but I feel out of shape, loose, unhealthy.

I tried to run this evening and work myself back into self-approval, but my back stung. My legs ached. My lungs burned. My chest tightened. My throat dried. My nose dribbled. My stomach cramped. I thought I could mentally overcome the physical pain, but halfway into my run I understood that my body would not allow me to return to peak condition just because I wanted it one evening. I turned left onto Archer Road, and the cars seemed to be racing at a rocket's pace as I walked back home.

During my slow return home, I thought about how shallow I was in assuming that because I wanted to change, I could quickly and effortlessly attain my goal. Any true goal is out of reach when first noticed. No matter the good intentions, an accomplishment set out in the distance requires a stepping stone approach, a continuous effort to advance steadily toward an ultimate end. We cannot transform ourselves from one state to its radical superior, from adequate to great, from evil to godly, from destitute to rich, from ignorant to educated, without a steady determination.

Tonight I may have failed in one more quest, but I took the first step.

Here lies the dilemna and my unfortunate defeat: part of me wants to sit at my computer desk and write in my public journal. Furthermore, I particularly yearn to write something of substance, something profound, something that could arouse discussion or debate. Of course, there's always writer's bloc waiting around the corner. I've been suffering from writer's bloc for about a month now. The "dead" days that come with finals week gave my mind and body plenty of rest, but my mind seems to only have two modes right now: study and dormant. At this point, if I had anything I would hope to focus on between my periods of mental standby, it would be to study. Only two finals remain before I have two weeks free of scholastic life.

So there it is: a part of me would like to write quality work, but the part of me that controls that aspect...

Quik Ketchup Thyme (a summary of my last few days, in five or fewer phrases)

Friday: swing dancing... wallflower at first... girls teaching moves... confidence up... sweat, girls, fun

Saturday: up in afternoon... sad for uncle... Ben and Carly... Alehouse... better

Sunday: sick in stomach and face... Christmas concert... Ben, Carly, and girls... feels like setup... uncomfortable

Monday: better at crosswords... Alehouse All-you-can-eat wings... 30 and a Captain Jacko's... possible backup in Brooke

Tuesday: on task with school work... final class taught by favorite professor... abnormal urine volume... twenty-dollar Simpsons bet... wonderment about friends' relationship

Wednesday: thanks to professors... no more classes... exhausted but relieved... alone... solitude

Sorry that this part is blank, but I'm between philosophical thoughts at the moment.