My Black Eyed Dog

I had planned for a couple light weeks of practice this month because I am feeling a little burnt out after Miami. However, upon hearing of my results, K. was quick to express his displeasure at my placement and set out to make Tuesday night's practice a rather miserable one. My legs are still sore. No more practice this week. Next week is up in the air.

I know that I could be more in shape than I am, but my physical state is not what is keeping me back. It's not even my technical skill, because; heck, I bet 50% of my touches last weekend were hand/wrist/forearm shots. No, my proverbial roadblock is my Crazy.

I see my Crazy as a skulking beast, small but heavy, running in circles around me and slicking my path with a cool slime of doubt. Every step is taken with trepidation and even the slightest stumble sends me back several paces. It's a dangerous spiral and I went for a helluva ride last Saturday.

I suppose that the upshot is that I am very aware of this problem and that in the waging of the war against my Crazy, I am beginning to win every so often. It actually took physical effort (jumping, jogging in place, various noises of frustration), but after my third bout/loss in Div 2, I shook free from the dark cloud. It couldn't save my placement, but it was a small personal victory.

He who overcomes others is strong. He who overcomes himself is mighty. - Lao Tzu