Friday
Moderator
I just watched a seaplane go down, from few hundred feet up. Couple miles out. Whether it was the sudden change of movement as they went from making their ascent to a nosedive, or the sound of their engines cutting out, I don’t know what made me look up. They flattened out right before they hit, engines roaring to life, but I couldn’t tell if what I was seeing were their wings flat on the water, or if their pontoons bounced them back up, after one of those splashes thats as big as a building. Too far out. Just a glint of grey metal on grey water. So I grabbed binos and a phone and ran to high enough ground for a vantage and called it in.
f*ck me.
I hate this shit.
I know, intellectually, that even if I were working I would still just being doing what I did. But it’s the utter uselessness of being a bystander. Of doing nothing. I couldn’t swim that. Not today. When I used to swim 5mi every morning. Run 5 up the beach, swim 5 back. I used to have support, choppers and boats, med kits, medics, and radios, o2 & wet/dry suits. I was just 1 very small part of a large team. Just the person who got wet, was all. Nothing special. Nothing important. Except to me. Actually doing something. Of value.
IDFK if it’s hitting this hard because before Covid these were going to be my volunteer years, whilst my son finished up highschool, and I worked BS restaurant jobs to save up to move outta this miserable freaking climate... and instead of easing my way back into doing what I love, I’m just older and fatter and more broken, and more broke, riding out the pandemic, like a useless tub’o’lard. Yes, there were “reasons” (I live in a high risk household, and my own lungs are trashed from too many drownings and too many tropical diseases, spent 6mo with pneumonia this year alone, getting Covid on top would just be schtupid. I can’t even hold my breath 2 minutes -yet- or swim for shit right now -15 minute survival time in the local water, and the pools are all closed, so I’m f*cking fat- so I know, I know, I’m not even fit to volunteer, much less FIT to work). “Reasons” just feel like whiny ass excuses. The “smart play” really isn’t my forte. Never has been. Winging it, I’m good at. Reasonable, smart, laid out plans? Not so much.
I need to get back to work.
And I can’t. Not yet. I’m fat, unsat, and f*cking useless. Perhaps worse, borderline feeling sorry for myself. Which is unacceptable. Moto? Fine. Whinging? f*ck off, get up off, and DO something.
In just a few more years, it doesn’t matter how fit I make myself, I’ll be too old. It’s do it now, or never again.
f*ck me.
I hate this shit.
I know, intellectually, that even if I were working I would still just being doing what I did. But it’s the utter uselessness of being a bystander. Of doing nothing. I couldn’t swim that. Not today. When I used to swim 5mi every morning. Run 5 up the beach, swim 5 back. I used to have support, choppers and boats, med kits, medics, and radios, o2 & wet/dry suits. I was just 1 very small part of a large team. Just the person who got wet, was all. Nothing special. Nothing important. Except to me. Actually doing something. Of value.
IDFK if it’s hitting this hard because before Covid these were going to be my volunteer years, whilst my son finished up highschool, and I worked BS restaurant jobs to save up to move outta this miserable freaking climate... and instead of easing my way back into doing what I love, I’m just older and fatter and more broken, and more broke, riding out the pandemic, like a useless tub’o’lard. Yes, there were “reasons” (I live in a high risk household, and my own lungs are trashed from too many drownings and too many tropical diseases, spent 6mo with pneumonia this year alone, getting Covid on top would just be schtupid. I can’t even hold my breath 2 minutes -yet- or swim for shit right now -15 minute survival time in the local water, and the pools are all closed, so I’m f*cking fat- so I know, I know, I’m not even fit to volunteer, much less FIT to work). “Reasons” just feel like whiny ass excuses. The “smart play” really isn’t my forte. Never has been. Winging it, I’m good at. Reasonable, smart, laid out plans? Not so much.
I need to get back to work.
And I can’t. Not yet. I’m fat, unsat, and f*cking useless. Perhaps worse, borderline feeling sorry for myself. Which is unacceptable. Moto? Fine. Whinging? f*ck off, get up off, and DO something.
In just a few more years, it doesn’t matter how fit I make myself, I’ll be too old. It’s do it now, or never again.
Last edited: