A thick layer of wet snow laid on top of my car and the lawn. Months ago I would have smiled and welcome it with delight. Not today.
I hastily threw a pair of shorts and a short sleeve t-shirt in my bag. Today I would not be running outside, today was a treadmill day.
I anticipated the surprise in my coworkers eyes. I would be running inside when I have run every day in the blazing sun of the summer; in the cold and wind of the winter and in the rain of the summer before, but I wouldn’t be running today in what in comparison was mild temperatures.
There comes a time when I am done. I am now.
I have the strength, the desire, the fire to endure anything. To pursue, to tack any challenge. But when I reach that line being by choice or pushed to it, I am done. There is no fight left in me.
I lack the interest, the enthusiasm, the desire to go on.
There might lay a seed underneath the snow today. But I won’t reach under to find it. I’ll wait for it to become a rose, or not become anything at all.
I am ready for something new. No more of the same.