Hitting the wall

While I often walk into actual walls (I think there’s a disorder that accounts for this, but that’s another story), today I’m feeling like I’ve hit the figurative wall. We all do sometime or another. Runners and cyclists call it the moment when they¬†bonk, when their energies give out and the momentum they had dissipates.

I can tell you with some confidence that I haven’t been running or riding a bike but I can say that my momentum has waned today. I woke up with it. Truth be told, I probably went to sleep with it.

Could it be the onset symptoms of a cold? Perhaps over-streched-ness that comes at mid-term time in the fall when everything is finally underway concurrently after a period of summer (both in the calendar sense of summer and in the mind-set sense of summer). Or maybe it’s just that I’ve run out of steam for a moment and my body is telling me that I need to take a breath.

The fact is, I’ll never know why I hit the wall, or why today when things were just beginning to gather momentum. Malcolm Gladwell might call my little episode an ennui after I fell over a tipping point of exciting times. I think it’s just a matter of things that I did not notice, that were invisible to me, coming together all at once to tell me to stop and regroup.

Energy is always there, but how it moves from flow to ebb, though I can deconstruct it, is a mystery enfolded in the invisibility that surrounds my daily life.