I live a boundless, forward-moving energetic life that is free of baggage holding me back.

Freewheeling still covers ground. A cyclist who has stopped pedalling for a mile down a hill has not stopped travelling, and arrives at the bottom with more left for the next climb than the one who ground away at the whole descent.

Forward-moving gets read as constant output, and that reading is what wears people out by March. Momentum is not the same as effort. A great deal of movement in a life happens during the parts that look like nothing: the walk, the sleep, the fortnight where you produced nothing at all and something rearranged itself anyway.

Energy of the useful kind describes the shape of a year rather than the content of a Tuesday.