It's a good thing I like school. When I started talking to my professors about going to grad school, one thing they all said was, you have to be willing to sacrifice everything—family, friends, hobbies, homes—to philosophy. I didn't listen. So it's a good thing I like school, because I sacrificed all that other stuff.
The past six months have been the hardest since about a decade ago. I don't know if I'm worse off or better than that time. I don't think that's relevant. But if you do some digging you'll notice something about that decade ago mark. That's the time I started this blog. It's also the time when I started racing ultras. Those were my ways of coping with my problems and they worked pretty well.
Unfortunately, I've sacrificed those things and now I'm paying the price. Luckily, I've learned a few things in the intervening time. The big one is, keep busy. I'm okay when I have something going on. Two days of my week I'm so busy I forget to feel terrible. Those are my favourite days. Then there are weekends. Weekends are bad. Weekends I don't have anything going on and I haven't found anything yet to take the place of the kind of mind-numbing bike ride that made training for ultras so satisfying.
So I've had to find things to fill the time. To that end I've started going to the gym. I hate gyms and I've railed against them in this blog before, but they're saving me now. I can thrash myself on a rowing machine, go through my lifting routine, and then take a few minutes to relax in the sauna (not as good as a Finnish sauna, but it'll do). Biking is out, I tried one final time and—just no. Skiing is out too—too expensive and far to travel. Running still has potential, but I need to get back on that wagon. We'll see if I can find some races to work toward.
I've also started writing. I got a good taste of it in my last two semesters at ISU and I've gotten too much encouragement to let it drop. I like it in much the same way that I like ultras, but really it's more like working on bikes. To write a story you have to take something apart—whatever that core idea is, the thing that must be told—see how it works and then put it back together. And if it's put back together in the right way you'll find that it works better than before. I won't claim that I'm any good at it. Others will have to make that judgment. But I've found a writing group, a place to workshop. They seem to like my stuff so far—even if it isn't their usual romance and thriller fare.
As the semester progresses and I become busier I'll probably become happier. Sometimes I think this is what it's all about, jumping from one distraction to another. If you're lucky those distractions are positive and lead to better and more fulfilling distractions. If you're not they compound and grow in on themselves in a sneaky hate spiral.