Things which are dull

I read Moby Dick once. The whole thing from cover to cover. It's supposed to be a classic, but I'm too lowbrow to get it, I suppose. It was quite the dullest thing I've ever read. At one point, Melville abandons all pretence of keeping the narrative going, and spends a few pages simply listing things which are white.

I mention this because about the only thing I know which is duller than those pages is ballooning around on jugs endlessly, hoping to get fit. This evening was gorgeous; one of those pure azure skies that stretches forever. I left the office in a t-shirt and cycled to the wall with a heavy heart. Sometimes it sucks to go indoors. It helps to be honest with ourselves. It would be more fun to go out, and bathe the soul in sunshine. But something compels me not too. I am sacrificing my happiness for the sake of my ambition.

I know it's worth it.

Today's training session was brutal. Hours of fingerboarding leaves the fingers screaming. Endless reps on two fingers, massive iron plates dangling from my harness. Joints, skin and muscles all scream alike. At least the core exercises give my fingers a rest.

And then comes the real drudgery. Half an hour on the wall. There's barely anyone else here of course, so I can climb where I please. Nevertheless, I loop round the same overhanging section; a hamster in a wheel. When the timer beeps I allow myself five minutes rest and then it's back on. Another half an hour.

A list of things that are white. John Major. Grocery shopping. Endless bloody stamina training. The only thing not dull is the pain. Weakness leaving the body. I hope so. Barrows had a poster on his fridge. "Nothing tastes as good as 9a feels". He's an idiot. But this is my sacrifice. This drudgery. I pray it will pay off. But (whisper it), even if it doesn't I won't be too sad. I'm kind of having fun...