My eyes have been too big for my energy lately; nevertheless, I persisted, and I feel pretty good about it.

I decided to take my 10-minute exercise capacity and tackle two huge projects here, clearing and cleaning all 1500 sq feet of the basement, and clearing the blackberry brambles that exploded this spring (and didn't get attention last fall, when it was needed and I was asleep all the time).

I'm constantly surprised, too, at how much I can do in a few minutes (and how much difference a little bit of work makes in a large project). Thanks to a new neighbor who spotted this old guy doing manual labor and wanted to help, there is now a lot of bare ground where the blackberry vines once roamed, and many new paths in the basement. And I understand all of this.

I just needed to see some progress, some improvement., after nine months of stasis. I sleep less and move more these days, both good things, but it's all glacial and filled with caution. I lurch around the house, most of the time resembling an inebriated man on a trampoline -- my center of gravity becomes a mystery. I forget what I'm saying, what I'm thinking, often what I'm doing. I still say I'm better. I can't necessarily explain why I think that.

But I'm fighting back, as I can, and it feels great. Once I figured out that, while I'm still optimistic, I have to imagine life with limits and how I'll manage, I started to move and haven't stopped.

It exhausts me, no question, but then. I'm always sort of exhausted. There are paths now, I made them, I can see what's next to do, and I can see how this might play out.

And if I can never take those long walks again, I'm pretty sure I can take a bunch of little ones.