Whiney baby

I put away all the clothes that had been hanging on the rack for far too long today. Went for a bike ride, also. I think it might've been my first solo bike ride since I got it. I had fun. And I found a Cliff bar in my riding bag. Sweet.

Went to physio today and then went for massage therapy and, as I was cooking dinner tonight I was thinking how fucking lucky am I that I have Mondays off, that my health care covers a trip to the physiotherapist and the massage therapist, and that the only reason that I ended up there today was because I am in the position to - and have the ability to - run marathons for fun.

Went to see my Nana and Ed on Sunday afternoon. He's 94 and she just suffered a mild heart attack and you start to wonder how many more visits are left. Not that age is a factor, mind. Life can be short.

I spend a lot of time feeling guilty about my lot in life. I don't do anything about it, mind. I volunteer for the occasionally thing here and there. I drive by the blood donation truck on St. Georges and continually think I should go, but never do. I sporadically donate clothing and books to the Salvation Army. I try to be someone that people can count on. That track record is good, but not perfect.

I don't know where this sense of guilt comes from. There are people that have worked significantly less than I have in life and have been given much more and they go through life with an amazing sense of entitlement. And I - for example - worked hard and trained hard and paid a lot of money to get to Boston where I had my (to this day) personal best marathon. And I have never worn the jacket because I think it's obnoxious and showy and I feel somewhat unjustifiably privileged to have been able to go there in the first place.

Fundamentally? I think I should rock out with my cock out more often. Otherwise I should just relinquish my lifestyle to someone that would live it better.