Life is cyclic. Sometimes it is as predictable as the coming and going of the seasons. Other times it is a varied as the menstrual cycles of a peri-menopausal woman. *sigh* I’m learning a little bit about that these days. But I digress. This is not about that.

My running coach once reminded me, when I’d been suffering from injury for way too long, that our sporting activities also have seasons. “This is just not your running season,” he remarked, “but it will come again.”

Sometimes I wonder if it is my season for any sporting activity. Every one of mine was hit hard with my back issue and now I am gradually picking them up again. I do a little of this and a little of that, but none all that well. Even yoga has been hit hard.

Much to my disappointment, it’s hard to roll out my mat, lace up, or get back in the saddle. I’m hoping it will pass. Until then, I just need to make myself get out and do it. I don’t need to do it long, or hard, or even be good at it. I just need to get out and do it.

This cycle of life will soon be leaving me to move on to another — hopefully a better one.