This morning I went for a walk and it looked like this:
I got home puffed and red in the face and sore in places already. Did I feel great? Not really. Most of the time I was out I was battling with my head – just run to that spot there and then you can walk for a bit, only to have my head stop me 2 metres before and wonder what it is inside of you that makes you stop. It was beautiful out there, and quiet. I saw a few rabbits and a dead wombat. I wonder why I couldn’t just be in the moment and enjoy it for what it was: time away from the kids, a slow start to the day, a chance to clear my head. Instead it was beating myself up, setting challenges, failing.
I got home and after School drop off I made breakfast that looked like this:
Some eggs. Some smoked salmon. A shit load of dill and rocket. And lashings of pepper and salt. It was delicious.
I’m sure the secret to good eating is herbs, and lots of them. They make EVERYTHING tastier. And I swear I didn’t even miss the bread and butter. Eating well isn’t really hard. A tasty salad tastes a whole lot better than 2 cheese sandwiches on white bread with butter spread on thick. This breakfast tasted better than vegemite toast. It’s a little harder to do, but is worth the effort 10 fold.
A bit like exercise I suppose. Stupid exercise.