My day today was spent in the winter sun and cold fresh air of my parents orchard, pruning apple trees. Pruning being a restful occupation I had plenty of time to think. Last night my wife and I attended a restaurant outing of about forty t-girls, a friendly and boisterous gathering that left me as always a bit down this morning, having been my normal oversized scruffy bloke for the occasion.
Give or take a couple of days, it's a year since I had the Long Chat with my doctor. I think I'm in a significantly better condition than I was then and I've come a long way, but I have also remained stuck firmly in the same place. Winter has arrived and with it has come my sleep problems, girl fog and all its accompanying joys. Medication controls it this time, but at the cost of leaving me significantly below par. Only ten posts so far this month, if that doesn't indicate a lowered brain capacity I don't know what does!
So when I finally reach the GIC it'll be about eighteen months since that chat last year. I'm told that's about average so I've got little to complain about, but I can't shake the worry that they'll have little to offer me. When I last saw my psychiatrist I addressed that to him and he reminded me that while it may be true, at least I'll be seeing the experts, people with the most experience in the matter.
This time next year when I've completed another lap of this circuit as the 25000 metre long distance runner I'll no doubt have watched a few more of the sprinters break the tapes and leave the stadium.
I'll still be running.