The Long Fuse
Photo courtesy of Gratisography
Wednesday, February 25th, 2026I can endure almost anything.
That’s not always a compliment.
I survived four weeks of P2 fittings. We all knew I would. The only real question was how much collateral damage there’d be and how long it would take to put it all back together.
Somewhere in the middle of all of that, my right wrist developed carpal tunnel. A low humming ache that turns to a high-pitched whine at the slightest twist. I’ve been wearing a brace for a few days now - the one I finally settled on after ordering and returning a small parade of options - no drum line.
The first brace I tried had so many Velcro tabs it felt like assembling IKEA furniture one-handed. I had to hold it in place with the bad hand, while fastening it, which is a cruel joke when the thing I’m trying to immobilize has to immobilize the brace.
The one I kept is simple: one elastic band, one strap, fully operable with one hand. Streamlined. Minimal. Not busy. (I am nothing if not aesthetically committed, even in injury.)
Now that my right wrist is stabilized, I’ve noticed the left one gets cranky too. Of course it does. I briefly considered buying a matching brace but decided I’m not emotionally prepared to function at 85% mobility on both sides. I’ll stretch the left. Support the right. I’ll let that be enough for now.
My resilience score finally crawled back up to “Solid” today. I went to bed at a reasonable hour. Woke up at 7. Technically nine hours of sleep, if you don’t count the 3 a.m. pee break, the dogs’ corresponding pee break, the horoscope check, and my nightly devotion to puzzle games in the blue glow of poor decisions.
Still. Better.
Four days ago I shifted my eating habits again. Relax. I’m still consuming enough eggs to raise eyebrows. But salads are back for lunch. Protein is up and food diversity is back on the menu. I went to the gym yesterday for a full workout, and today I returned to finish the exercises I’d skipped in previous sessions. I’m adding steps and drinking water like I’m getting ready to cross a desert.
Work took a toll this month. That’s true. It’s also true that I didn’t do much ahead of time to brace for impact. That part’s on me.
Now that work’s less demanding, I was considering doing another 75 Hard. I’ve done it before. I know the drill. Two workouts a day. Strict diet. No excuses. I respect it. It worked — until it didn’t. I held onto the habits for a few months after, and then I rebelled, gently at first. Then spectacularly with sleeping-in and ice cream for breakfast. A slow slide back to baseline and then some.
So I drafted a 75 Average plan. One workout instead of two. 10,000 steps. Same general diet, but with planned indulgences. Meditation instead of reading. Same weigh-ins. Same measurements. Same tidy boxes for my sticker chart with a start and a finish line.
And then I caught myself. I don’t need another finish line.
I’m very good at enduring things when I can see the end. I can count backwards. I can measure progress. I can white-knuckle almost anything for 75 days. That’s a useful skill. It’s also a sneaky one.
I have a long fuse. But when the only light at the end of the tunnel is the reflection of the one I lit myself, eventually the bomb goes off.
Endurance is a double-edged sword. It makes me capable. It also makes me complicit. If I can endure it, I will. And if I will, I don’t have to address it. Until I do. Loudly…
Trying to out-discipline myself into better behavior is just another version of the same pattern. All or nothing.
It’s easier to follow rules than it is to trust myself without them.
What I don’t know - or at least what I’m still learning - is how to do things with a lighter grip. How to show up consistently without turning it into a competitive sport. How to take care of myself without converting it into a system..
I don’t need more endurance. I need something quieter than that.
Can I do just enough?
Can I feel steady without going to extremes?
Can I learn to maintain without measuring?
There are so many things around me asking for more. More time. More output. More tolerance.
I want to be one of the things that gets more.
So instead of 75 Hard or 75 Average, I’m aiming for a streak. I’ll do the workouts. Hit the steps. Eat mostly like a responsible adult with raccoon tendencies. Meditate. Drink the water. And I’ll see how long it lasts.
When I break it - because I will - I’ll start again and try to beat it.
No finish line. No dramatic rebellion. Just momentum and a rhythm I can return to.
The only rule: the rest stops can’t last longer than the streak did.
I can endure almost anything.
I’m starting to think the braver move is learning when I don’t have to.
Stay Gritty