Seven months. Still straining inexorably toward my goals.
Every step has been hard, but not every step has been miserable. There are plenty of joyful steps to look back on, and looking back is always surprising and beautiful.
Still, turning forward again to take another step takes every bit as much grit as the very first step I took, and every step in between. This month is as excruciating as any other month, but this is the month where I hope to finally crawl over the lip of that distant high plateau, scraped up and pissy and out of breath. The question that keeps popping into my head this morning is HOW BADLY DO I WANT IT? Because I know arriving will be the first step to the next part, and I can already see it might be even harder. But.
I want this. Even if it gets harder.