I had a cold shower. I was determined to be above such petty restrictions as cold. Since my concussion on Tuesday, I’ve not been allowed to go to Taekwondo. That makes it a full three weeks since I’ve last trained with others. Liberty told me to take two weeks off, so hang on, why haven’t I gone for a week? Wednesday was chorale! Friday was some stupid conference that was cancelled anyway. Saturday was possible, except my mother didn’t want to pay for a week’s worth of lessons for an hour. My class is not on Thursdays, or Sundays. Today is Monday. I’ve been looking forward to this Monday for a long, long time. And I’ve been waiting, sleeplessly, to go back to Taekwondo. To feel my heart race, to do what I love most. But no. No, Eugene has to call and say he wants to be picked up from uni. Goodbye Mum, see you half an hour after class has started. No, it’s okay, I can go on Tuesday (and face Roy), Wednesday, then ignore Friday Saturday Sunday and Monday because they’re all public holidays. Visb, do you know how much effort I put into re-organising my life around these Taekwondo lessons? A lot! I think about them a dozen times a day! Bah.
Is God trying to get me to quit Taekwondo? Is that it? Because if it is, I don’t know how I’ll live. I admit, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to actually be in the dojan, even if I remember the lessons. To actually stand in the building makes my heart race- it happens every time. Then I started training, and I think I was largely happier. Could I sleep better at night? Lately I’ve had much trouble; going to bed at 9 and going to bed at 11 will yield the same amount of rest. I hoped that when I resumed training I’d sleep more. However, such things are not meant to be.