Ir al contenido principal

Constancia

Puede resultar irónico que escriba de este tema cuando no he podido volver a publicar un post desde el jueves pasado, pero creo que hoy aprendí una lección importante para ser constante en las cosas que hago.

Hoy decidí subirme otra vez a la bicicleta y viajar como 8 kilómetros para ir a dejar una película al videoclub (no voy a decir marcas, pero tenemos un monopolio ahi). El problema de esos ocho kilómetros es que para nada pueden ser ocho kilómetros planos, definitivamente son muy empinados. Además, ir por el periférico en bici le pone una ración extra de peligro al asunto (yo y mis cosas intrépidas).

Para no perderme en los detalles, el punto fue que descubrí cosas importantes mientras recordaba cuál era la mejor forma de llevar el ritmo para subir una pendiente: volví a darle importancia al ritmo de respiraciones porque creo que esa es la primera forma de ser constantes en las cosas que hacemos. Si podemos respirar de acuerdo al ritmo necesario durante las actividades que hacemos para hacer que nuestro cuerpo responda, creo que tendremos un mejor desempeño en cualquier cosa que hagamos (por lo menos físico, ya la preparación es otro tema).

También recordé que mantener un ritmo constante en el número de veces que pedaleaba me podía ayudar más que las pequeñas explosiones que te ayudan a avanzar rapidisimo. Pues si, parece que esto se trata de constancia y de la forma en cómo esa constancia se convierte en resultados.

Creo que me entró demasiado oxígeno en el cerebro, porque déjenme contarles que todo lo que sube tiene que bajar, entonces el regreso fue una intrépida aventura por disfrutar a la gravedad...

Dulces sueños :-)

Comentarios

Entradas populares de este blog

It was just another time

It was a moan, it was her breathing.  It was the end of innocence.  It was not only the curiosity of the time,  it was the hidden feeling behind.  It was just a kiss, why not?  It was just the fifth bottle of champagne.  The good times need the best liquor.  It was then just a try.  Just her hand in her hand,  it was just a witness surprised.  It was just a moment to stop,  it was just a time to look at the eyes.  It was then the next song,  it was a weird time.  It was another kiss in the eyes.  It was dancing together,  it was falling behind.  It was just another kiss, then another one. It was that electric feeling,  knowing that something is going to end bad.  It was just the delicacy of the moment,  it was just a time.  It was not passionate or wild,  it was curiosity and discovery chance.  It was touching here a...

Useless

I asked a poet to write about you, in the middle of London, next to the river. It was announced he could write anything on paper, at any rate, all the times I wanted. I told him who you were. I used my best words to describe your soft and shiny hair. I spoke about the darkness of those eyes, the strength living in their colour and the power they have to look. I tried to detail the delicacy of your nose and the softness of your lips. And I stopped there and came back in the sensations you were provoking. I had no words for the miracle of your smile. It was automatic; it should be there. I went down to your neck, soft and clean, always smelling like the sweetest perfume that makes me feel lost. Then your shoulders, then your hands then your breast. I got crazy of telling him about the miracles living in the waist and the storms you provoke in your hips. And then I went on. And then I couldn't stop. Your legs, the way you walk and the incredible sensations you were producing...

If you were another piece of words

I would be worried, sad, bitter.  If you were another piece of words.  I would be desperate in the middle of loneliness. Craziest paragraphs would be the centre of my anxiety. If you were another piece of words. I would build the perfect world in one line. Give it to you in a paper. I would find a thousand of ways of solving problems  Put each one next to your nice hair. If you were another piece of words I would not ask you to believe,  To take the risk of what you feel,  to embrace the  best moments of your life. I would be desperate finding the wrongs I would be crazy counting the lies. If you were another piece of words. I would test now my new theory,  Write you six stories, three arrangements, two rhymes. After the word line 76 you would begin to vanish. At the 100th line for sure you would be gone. If you were another piece of words, You could open a new post, Be the secret reason for someone to read Find a new lover or maybe ten,  I wouldn...