I've had one of those weekends where I fell off the wagon, proverbally speaking. In recent months I have fine-tuned a daily routine that involves a bit of meditation, active engagement in specific life areas (e.g. reading a little bit on personal finance or doing some form of exercise/body conditioning, however small). Basically, discplining myself to do specific things each day. And I can genuinely say that I've seen improvements in certain parts of my life, such as applying myself at work.
However, this weekend saw my 'little and often' daily acts of progress go totally to the wall. I blame Friday's pool party. Actually, it was my visit to the gym on Thursday night ahead of the following day's event. Now, I'm not proud to say it but I figured that because my body no longer defaults to one of a 20-something year-old Adonis, it was worth going hell for leather on the crunches and back press ups, just to make sure I could vaguely hold my own. Obviously, I didn't warm up and obviously my body was in shock after the crazy work out. This should have been done over a period of weeks - not a mad power half hour. So by the time I hit the party my lower back was in all sorts of pain. Then, of course, I chose the only natural remedy - drink through it. And drink hard. And so it was I found myself post-party drifting home from a random club we headed onto, with the sound of morning song in my ear and the morning sun in my eyes. The knock on effect of all that, of course, was a Saturday in ruins and a Sunday shaped by the five stages of grief.
I'm not saying that I'm in line for a sainthood anytime soon but the daily discipline of 'little and often' has been good at moving me forward. Keeping me on the straight and narrow and not allowing myself to be too distracted. Okay, I might well have still been out to some ungodly hour, but had I kept my focus I may well have managed my night a bit better. And my back wouldn't be aching like hell now either...
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