I Really Didn't Need Another Reason to Hate the Cold

I have come to a point in my life where I really can't base my self-worth on my accomplishments in life (you know, because I never actually accomplish anything). So, at this point, pretty much all positive feelings I have about myself come from my physical abilities. If I can do something today that I couldn't do yesterday, then I get to feel good about myself. This is sort of okay actually, because that is something that I feel I have a fair amount of control over, at least compared to other aspects of my life. I work hard, I get better, I feel good. Seems fair. Of course, the inverse is also true. If I happen to get worse at something, I feel like absolute shit about myself and it ruins my whole fucking day.

So here's the problem; one of the things that I've been really working on lately is pull-ups, and I've been making pretty good progress. Unfortunately, I still have no other place to do them but from the rafters in the pig barn. Since the weather has gotten colder the last few days I have realized that my hands are totally fucking useless when they're cold. Yesterday I ended up being able to do about half as many pull-ups as I usually do because I just couldn't get my hand to grip properly. There is really nothing that frustrates me more than not being able to do something that I know I should be able to do.

Dean knows the feeling. 

P.S. My dad is supposed to help me put a bar up in the barn soon, so at least my hands will fit around it and I'll have a better chance.