I can’t put my finger on it, but it happens to me every November. Maybe the winter winds blow the hope out of my heart, or the darkness of the evenings drags me down, but for years now each November has been a low point for my spirit. Why do I forget the contentment of the holidays that lurks around the corner? Perhaps I take stock of my year each fall, and without even realizing it dwell on all the things I wanted to do and didn’t. Said J. M. Barrie in 1891, “The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another; and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it.”
Were I somehow more objective, I would be more proud. If only I could look past my frustrations at work, above my pitiful climbing motivations, around the obstacles between me and the goals I have, I would see that this year has been one of my best. Ever. Perhaps 2005 didn’t leave me atop the highest peak, or sending my hardest route…but I found the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I found a place where I would like to spend a great deal of those years to come. I have learned so much…and reaffirmed some lessons that I thought I learned when I was merely 16. I ran a marathon. Tell Phil Magistro, junior cross-country runner at Wyomissing in 1998 that he would run a Marathon!
Again, this funk may not be the same as I have suffered in the past – perhaps this is born simply out of a true desire to see our carpet, knowing that I lack the energy at the end of each day to make that happen… 😉 Muster the strength, Phil, go! Go, and do laundry!