Louder rowers envelop you with white noise. It’s an oppressive sound that even with hearing protection still prevents anything more than even more unnatural sounds to pierce through it. This sound cacophony easily quiets external distractions but also dampens internal distractions. As you’re rowing, you first focus on your pace, then whether anything hurts, then you just forget about yourself, your rowing, and all that’s left is a solitary peace as you escape the noise.
Loud thoughts ring through.
Over these past few months, it’s been near survival instinct over what item to work on next for my packing. If it’s too ambiguous, I’ll procrastinate. The snow then rain prevented me from getting two shelves for the better part of a week. I used that time to outline, both during rowing sets on my little rower and during spells where I sat, tired, disinterested in doing anything.
Today, I moved everything.
The shelves and “anything I wanted to keep” went up in a one-hour storm. Things are emptying out nicely. The pressure is still on. I can’t spend too much time not working on this because I still have plenty to go. It’s like how I’ve burned off thirty pounds already but still have another thirty before I reach the weight I once was at where I felt great.
Today, I only moved a little.
I don’t feel like doing too much else today. I’ve been escaping into entertainment too much lately. My rowing hasn’t been as productive or relaxing as it had before this move got serious. I feel like my health is declining slowly. I’ve been tracking my daily progress and I’ve been doing some good stuff, but just like with writing or rowing, you can really only tell over the course of months or years.
Even then, one slip up and it’s all done.
My knee hurt earlier this week. That wasn’t fun. I’ve been feeling limited by my writing topics. I wish I could write fiction again. It’s been since “Broadroom Number Three.” I also don’t know where I’ll live. So there’s more of a survivalist mentality.
Still, rowing quiets those anxieties.
Within a 10-minute set, I usually won’t think of anything until the 5-minute mark, when I get the slightest degree of physical fatigue, and usually by minute 8, my mind will drift to something it shouts out that I need to do. Mostly, it’ll be good advice over something that will be helpful to do. Maybe tend to this or write about that.
It’s just unfortunately not always relevant.
If this packing project has taught me anything, it’s the value of not chasing every whim. Don’t get distracted by the shinies that placate the tastebuds with sugary excess. Don’t fall for the easy traps. Don’t let self-doubt bring you down.
Sure, there’s a lot left to do.
But in three months, I’ve moved a mountain of clutter, almost entirely by myself, with only minor compromises.
That’s a comfort I can appreciate within the harshest noise.
|Sources: My fitness experiences.
– This week’s weight: 231.5
– Last week’s weight: 233.5
– Difference: Two pounds down. I wonder if it’s the stress I held onto related to finding a place versus now fully residing in a new place. I didn’t know during the writing where I would live. I’m happy that despite my concerns, I still kept a good attitude. It was stressful.
|Inspirations: One of my last rowing sets at the old place, I guess.|
|Related: Past weekly column entries.|
|Pictures: New camera. Today’s progress toward digging out the rower. That might be a new feature here on the site since now my rowing backlog is depleted, future essays will focus on either exercising in lieu of rowing or figuring out where I can row within an apartment complex.|
|Written On: February 15th [30 minutes]|
|Last Edited: March 12th [minor edits]|