Not the size of the steps that matter...

... but the sheer fact that one foot follows the other, no matter how painfully, how slowly, how begrudgingly.

I think that describes my life as an entrepreneur at the moment. I want so much to feel sorry for myself... but I won't really allow that. There's too much at stake.

When setting out to swim the English Channel, it's important not to start by counting strokes. I'm so accustomed to seeking a sign: checking my email; dashing out to the mailbox, as soon as the carrier visits.

I'm addicted to measuring change. I check my investments daily more because it affords me something to do, some change to observe. I am palpably disappointed when the markets are closed, because I'm denied that sense of activity. When I'm gardening, I check on my plants each day, to see if a new shoot has emerged, or leaf unfurled. It's not that any of it matters from one day to the next. I know that. But without these little behaviors, I feel the geologist watching an iceberg from up close, blinking, staring.

I've been keeping my schedule on a calendar, marking down my moment to moment activities (15 minutes on email; 30 minutes reading news and blogs; 1 hour reviewing and modifying documents). It keeps me accountable, honest.

I called a local college about posting a student internship for programming assistance. As much as anything, I think I just want company, an ear, someone to reflect off of. I value Rocket's input, but the opportunities are infrequent.

I signed up for a 2-hour workshop next Monday on starting a technology business at the small business development center of a major research university a couple hours drive away. I looked into joining the county's Inventors & Entrepreneurs club. Next meeting in a couple weeks. I lift my leg almost imperceptibly, and take a step, shufflingly, like someone recovering movement after paralysis. Step by step, I move, I creep, I slither toward a goal.