Let Me Sleep on It March 8, 2010

I felt a little tired this morning. Perhaps yesterday's studly workout ran me down more than I thought. Or, maybe it was conjuring all those images of Olympic glory that taxed my brain beyond its 3% operating capacity. Or, I might have been demoralized by the movie "Avatar" being shut out of the major Academy Awards. I can only hope its studio will be consoled by the rivers of money flowing into its coffers.

Or, I could just be tired because I don't sleep enough. It is a lifelong problem. I have not been a good sleeper-ever. Even as an infant, I would stay up all night worrying about whether or not I was missing anything by dozing off. I mean, there was just so much going on. I was the only newborn at the hospital with bags under his eyes from lack of rest. The maternity ward nurses said that like all infants, "the little Potts baby does look like Winston Churchill-after a night of drinking with Stalin."

As an adolescent I was kept awake at night by insecurity about my appearance. I was skinny, had a crooked nose, and acne. I can vividly remember being jerked back from the sleepy abyss by the clamor of facial pores opening and closing, trapping more oil than the Saudi Arabian sands. Clearasil was no match for my slimy skin, it only made me look like a palsied clown who had tried to apply his own makeup.

One of the benefits of running is said to be an improvement in both the amount and quality of sleep. These benefits have been squandered on me. I run a lot, but I worry a lot more. Not about acne anymore, but about more adult things. Like that gurgling noise the humidifier makes, "Is it leaking all over the carpet?" And the check I wrote for sixty-seven cents to cover my taquito purchase at Quik Trip, "Will I be able to find enough change in the sofa, and get it to the bank before the check goes through?"

It's a struggle I fear will derail my goal of running every day, as I can feel that tickle in the back of my throat that harbinges the coming of a cold. The Mike Potts Running Machine needs rest, if it plans to keep on running. By the way, one sign of chronic fatigue is when someone compares himself to an inanimate object-in the third person. I'll have to watch out for that.

Thanks for reading.