Saturday, July 27, 2013

When Fun-Hogging Becomes a Problem

 I woke up to a dark room and the sound of my alarm buzzing and ringing.  Blurry eyed, I searched the dresser, hoping to push the snooze button for nine more minutes of sleep, but by the time I found it I decided I might as well stay up.  I shuffled from our messy room, knee aching, mouth dry, to the kitchen to heat water for coffee.   In the kitchen, I grabbed a cup, filled it with water, and sipped it as I blankly stared at the ever growing pile of dishes in the sink.  After coffee, I ventured out to the garden to check on the drip system my mom and I installed a few weeks ago before hoping on a plane for Hawaii.  Everything is working well, and the tomato plants have engulfed everything.  By the sight of our bolted lettuce plants its apparent that I haven't had much interaction with the garden for the last few weeks aside from ever-so-often picking its fruits.  Our house is not much different.  A laundry basket full of clothes, yoga mats spread out on the floor, shoes and climbing gear strewn about.

The last few weeks seem a blur.  Went up to Western States to pace my friend Peter, then to Hawaii with my family, and now, the first couple of weeks back I have been trying my best to venture out into the mountains at every possible moment.  The result: my knee has been sore for a few days, my big toe is wrapped in climbing tape, I have splotches of poison oak popping up on my limbs, and our house has been engulfed by our tired decisions to let our "future-selves" put things away.

I have begun to wonder if this is becoming a problem. So many of our day-to-day chores have been neglected, and I wonder if future Erik and Jess will ever come around to pick up the piles of gear.  Even now, as I am writing this, I am becoming restless, knowing that there is something that I could be doing instead, and I feel like I have to answer the urge to go for a run.  Perhaps I am in denial about my addiction, but until the stage of acceptance I am going to go out and, as my college room mates would say, "buy the world."  And now off to some more fun hogging.

Peter Cross, Rucky Chucky River Crossing, Western States.

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