Yesterday The Wife nonchalantly observed that I haven’t been writing recently. I looked up and mumbled something related to lack of inspiration.
That’s not entirely true, but the truth is somewhere in a middle ground.
Right now the hustle is on in preparation for Opening Day, five days hence. At this time of year it seems like most everything requires marching double time. Stretching Opening Day weekend into a four-day trip means taking two days off at work. In turn, this requires a doubling up of the workload to avoid an inevitable avalanche of paperwork when I return; something guaranteed to quickly kill any post-fishing afterglow. It also cuts into time needed to regale co-workers with feats of fly fishing excellence.
Preparation requires the collection and inspection of gear more than once as I
can’t won’t trust a mental checklist to ensure that all’s ready to go.
My overwhelmed mind hourly sorts through the various fishing options, trying to decide which river or stream to fish first or the order in which to fish them; an important decision that factors in variables such as likely catch rate, water flow, species, the payoff of trying an unfamiliar venue, and the desire for solitude.
Trips to the gym bring about physical agony and mental anguish. There’s an understanding of the long-term benefit — the ability to keep up on the river with the sons — but it takes time away from preparation. More energy’s wasted shoving aside thoughts of yard work.
All the while, anticipation slows time to a crawl.
This is the storm behind the calm.
Thank goodness I tied what I think will be enough flies last month.