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OOC: For a quick and dirty introduction that's still in development: Lorcan Cuirc. I'm not new to Nerd Fitness, or even the Rebellion Forums to be accurate (though I haven't participated much in the last year). But, I am coming at this as if I am brand-spanking-new. Any helpful suggestions or advice would be much appreciated. I read the book in two days last summer and instantly LOVED the concept of gamifying my goals. I've been applying it inconsistently since. Now, after some life events I've decided to really look at myself, my life & goals, and rebuild. That's why I'm here and willing to really commit to this method and group. For Favourites: Hobbies: Reading and cooking, but working on starting a couple more. A potential hobby is woodworking (furniture). TV Shows: I really enjoyed Supernatural, Game of Thrones, and Parks & Rec. But I barely watch TV or movies at this time. Games: Skyrim and Fallout 4 were amazing. And I really liked Farcry Primal. Again, I barely play anything at this time. Main Quest: Begin to (re)discover and grow myself spiritually, mentally / emotionally, and physically. Quest 1: Start the NF Paleo diet at level 4. Quest 2: Continue with Couch to 5k from week 3 on alternate days from NFBW. Quest 3: Start NF Bodyweight program on alternate days from C25K. Quest 4: Continue daily reading and practicing Stoicism and other similar philosophical and spiritual programs. IC: Prologue: A Spark Catches the Spirit At the end of yet another long, exhausting workday, Lorcan tiredly sloshes through the mud as he makes his way through the streets and alleys towards home. Reaching a small shack made up of scrap aluminum, steel, and wood, he gratefully swings the splintering door open and steps inside out of the cool evening into a warm place in the world - HIS warm place. The small, leaky shack is on the marsh's edge in the dregs of town. The most dangerous, most unpredictable part of town - and part of people - is just steps away. But in here, he's relatively comfortable and safe, grinning sleepily at his floor mattress, the 'new' comfy pillows he traded 4 fish for laying on top of it, and the cookfire in front of him, he closes the door behind him enthusiastically and starts stoking to warm up some "mystery meat and I think they were vegetables" stew before turning in for the night to repeat it all again tomorrow. Plopping down on a rickety old chair as the cookfire flames flicker back to life, he begins to reassess things. With little to no sleep, the buzz of concerns, ideas, and to-do's mixed with personal affirmations to stay focused, stay in control of his emotions and perspectives, and put one foot in front of the other, are all but overwhelming. With a deep inhale through the nose and slow exhale through the mouth after a brief hold, as a now dead mentor had taught him to do two decades ago when stress starts to mount as it would when about to get into a physical confrontation, his mind calms, his body relaxes slightly, and he is refocused on the moment. He then systematically wonders how he ended up in this state of affairs: born to a middle-class family he was an athlete in his youth blessed with schooling where reading, writing, history, math, economics, and philosophy were made available to him; then a young but promising officer in the army; then a series of injuries; a series of failed relationships, the last one the closest to real love yet but he couldn't see it when it was there, when she was there; estranged from his dysfunctional family for so long he may as well be an orphan; the only close friend left that knows him in any depth lives far away - the rest were killed in action; and now a labourer in crop fields, rain, snow, or shine, so far north it's a wonder crops grow here at all, and so remote it's a wonder there are people here to buy them. He snaps out of reminiscing and can't help but laugh to himself about the futility of having regrets or trying to find blame instead of looking at now and how to grow and move forward. Then he realizes, and is grateful, his mind and feelings went that direction, and not towards self-pity and anger, or worse, fear. The stew bubbles thickly, reminding his stomach to complain and growl loudly, and he ladles himself a full bowl, devouring it almost as fast as it was poured. Dousing the cookfire back to small flickering whips of fire, he crawls into bed and lays on his back staring at the ceiling and into space. He whispers a quick prayer to the Goddess Morrigan thanking her for helping him endure, for testing him within his means and to continue to, for everything. And, finally, does a quick review of his new plan. With an optimistic smile, he falls asleep.