(I'm totally smitten with the pushing bass sound I've been using lately. It's so satisfying, especially in contrast to the drier kick. )

Part of knowing where to put the tired is knowing when to slow down. I've been pushing hard the last month. I wrote morning pages every day (save last Sunday). I wrote a daily everyday. I made music most days. I made uploaded recordings to SoundCloud 19 of those days. I released 6 tracks to spotify. I submitted the final materials for my first ever professional art show in a legit NYC gallery. I launched a new business - The Outwork. I've done interviews with 7 of you, and have 13 more scheduled. I created the first cohort of The Outwork Accelerator and sent out initial onboarding.

And yet I woke up this morning feeling that I had to immediately do more. That I needed to get the new payment system working or the business wouldn't be "real" yet. That I needed to prove the value of the service I was providing. However when I stopped to reflect, to reach out and be vulnerable, to ask for space, I continue to learn that the person that seems to need this proving isn't the people I'm serving, it's myself. I canceled my three interviews today, skipped the @dragon call, sent personal messages to those I felt responsible to, and took a bath.

The thing about where we put the tired is that if we just push the tired down and keep on going, we won't be able to hear the alarm bells right before we hit the wall. In this I disagree with Seth Godin - the people who know how to keep going, aren't those that know where to put the tired, they are those that know how to listen to it. When you get that stitch in your side, do you just pick up the pace, or do you slow down slightly and breathe into it? When you notice your shoelace gets untied, do you keep running and wait until you trip, or do you stop running for a moment to retie it?