Monday night. Sweet potato, kale and sausage, 8 tracks, quiet. This is the part I notice the most, the quiet.

I start a batch of muffins, browse through the end of Saturday's Globe and Mail, fold the leftover laundry. I am struck by how tired I feel, how slow I am moving. I take stock of my concussion symptoms. Do my physiotherapy exercises. Make a few lists for the week, and then I put the pen down and I gravitate towards the computer.

I consider how I feel after a big meal, usually a Sharon-special. Full. Almost a little too full. Somewhat uncomfortable even (I believe we call this a first world problem). This is the same way my emotions are capped. Full to the brim from a busy, beautiful and packed few weeks. I know evidence exists that planning a vacation is as satisfying as actually going on one; I also know that similar vacation evidence points out that a small emotional bottom-out at the end of this experience is common.

(I stop and make a note on my page. People who study vacations- possible vocation? Do they actually go vacationing or travelling themselves to do some of this research? Must find out.)

It is now over, a long list of things I was looking forward to over the last few months. Lisa's stagette in Lake Louise, camping with Jamie and Jessica at Chain Lakes, going to Kelowna for the Apple (spectating), Penticton for Ironman (Iron Sherpa). Riding outside in BC. Eating Peaches from Dorrie's tree. Swimming at Gyro, coffee at Gio. The lead up to Lisa's wedding, and then THE wedding itself. With all these events now over I can't help feeling a little empty. Scratch that. I feel full. Full of experiences, memories, thoughts, emotions. Things I need to digest.

For this week I plan on laying back, catching up on sleep, continuing to build my fitness, my health. I plan on writing about what I just saw, had, tasted, felt, heard. I plan on allowing myself to digest.