Months of moronitude.

January - The Month Of Potential: Cruising along after a brilliant 2013 and an inspiring trip to the grit in December, trip booked to Pedriza for maximum slab practise and hopefully the perfect practise for the tail end of the grit season.

February - The Month Of Sulking: All cruising come to an abrupt halt with a randomly tweaked wrist - can't stir fry, struggle to do the dishes and wipe my butt. Can't train and can't go to the gym and get pretty depressed and slothful and even more overweight.

March - The Month Of Recovery: The wrist slowly starts healing, the weather slowly becomes more reliable for general trad and I'm able to potter around. Knowing that I just need gentle mileage, it's quite pleasant getting back into and exploring a bit.

April - The Month Of Near Normality: As always happens, a steady diet of Easy Trad (tm) has got my wrist into a generally functional state, especially for almost all climbing except coming into underclings from below. The mileage has paid off and I'm climbing pretty well and doing some good challenges.

May - The Month Of Scrappiness: And yet somehow in May it all gets a bit scrappy, scrappy periods of intermittent reasonable weather, scrappy venues to take advantage of the weather windows but that never seem to offer reliable climbing, scrappy climbing progress that is actually more regress as despite feeling more healed than ever. I seem to have done a fair bit of climbing and can't remember any of it.

June - The Month Of .... Fuck knows. The month of more stupid intermittent weather?? The month of feeling lazy and slothful and slacking off my training?? The month of being hopelessly disorganised and missing out on most dry weather days??

....The month of really needing to get my act together. I am about as focused as a wet fart at the moment and if I dared try to pull a hard move that's probably what would happen. Once again there is a massive disparity between my levels of psyche and inspiration (high) and my levels of motivation and organisation (wtf?). Once again I feel detatched from myself because of that. That's not some airy fairy hippy bullshit (I had steak last night...), just simple facts. I happen to be a climber so I better fucking act like one.