The Greatest Fight

There comes a time one has to face a life-defining battle. And this struggle may come right in the maelstrom of a perfect storm: I've recently failed to accomplish one of the highest sporting goals I had set for myself, and find myself having to redefine what my next objectives will be, and how will they fit with my long(er) term plans. I'm rushing through the end of my Ph.D. , trying desperately to set my results straight and iron out deficiencies in the formalism I've been excruciatingly working on for the past three and a half years. Concomitantly, I'm sketching the early draft of what may be my second venture into Academia, perhaps a second Ph.D., attempting to combine my Physics knowledge with my passion for cycling. And also contemplating an investment here or a side business there, looking for other ways to make ends meet once my scholarship runs out by the end of the year. All while still trying to be a good friend, son, and lover, even if time seems often to run extremely short.

But right now, I have to face a much greater challenge - this very evening, and the next one, and the one following it. I have to ... sleep.

Last week, in an evening I went to bed expecting to sleep like a log, I was somehow caught off-guard and spent the whole night looking at the ceiling, painfully conscious of my own vigilant state, as I forgot how to do the one thing I've been doing effortlessly since my very first day in this planet. I did manage to catch some ZzZz's in the days afterwards, but only after bringing myself to the edge of exhaustion - and only to find myself, the following night, again unable to disconnect, as I was too aware of not being asleep. Flying back home with a five-hour time difference in the midst of this surely didn't help. With my terminal refusal to consider any sort of medication - I can't fathom the idea of having exogenous chemicals of the synthetic kind affecting how my brain reacts - I sought refuge in chamomile tea and the odd herbal medicine. It was perhaps only in the past evening that I could feel like I've fallen asleep in a somehow more regular fashion - still, not without a few interminable moments turning in bed.

I eagerly await the day - hopefully, not too distant - when I'll wake up and realize I've slept eight or nine hours straight. If anyone cares to join me in celebrating - there'll be mugs of strong, black coffee for everyone :)