Atlas Shrugged
Over the weekend, I dropped my food even lower than normal, and could hardly find the energy to put one foot in front of the other while doing my cardio. In part, it was a tactical error, and I realized I was dropping my calories too low, so I fixed that. But in part, I realized I was starting to break down, to fray at the edges, to give in. My head was pinned against the desk, similar to Hank Rearden’s in Atlas Shrugged; I felt I had spread so many sparks to start so many things that I had no spark left to run my own engine.
And I looked around, hoping somebody might lend me that spark. I was motivated in looking at my beautiful wife, and my beautiful daughter– and yes, even a handful of my clients that are currently very successful.
But it wasn’t enough. I needed something more.