I should be in bed at this hour but a series of events conspired to keep me away from bed and rest. I will collapse into bed shortly but have to be up super early for a series of appointments on Friday.
It should not be a shock to my battle-worn, 58-year-old body that I’m no longer a young man capable of endless 18-hour days and a whirlwind schedule. Wasn’t supposed to work out that way when we decided to move here to the mountains. This was to be a time for relaxation. That was the plan.
But work, committees, volunteer efforts and a host of other obligations required me to be out every night this week. It wasn’t anything I HAD to do but a growing collections of things I volunteered to do because I had not yet learned the simple art of saying “no.”
While the mind may be willing to take on more than it can handle, the flesh is weak — damn tired in fact — and I’m now saying “hell no, I won’t go.” I’ve stepped down from a vice president’s position of one board this week and will resign from other obligations because I need time to rest, regroup and refocus my efforts in areas where I can be most effective. I’m stretched too thin and have tried to do too much. And when you try to do too much, all you really do is accomplish too little.