Life just ticks along. There are the good and the bad and, usually, something in between.
My legs are tired and my heart is beating. Training for a marathon again and realizing that the only person i’m trying to beat is myself. To cross the finish line and erase the crushing memory of dropping out last year just 6 kilometers from the end. It’s going well, i’m listening to my body without listening too hard. Plugging in the miles week after week. I think i’m a third of the way there. The one lesson i have learned in these two years of running is that it is never easy and 26.2 miles is a damn long way.
Most of my mental energy lately has been focused on parenting a teenager. Most days falling into bed wondering what happened to the girl i had last summer. I do my best and hope we come out the other side safe, healthy and happy.
Melancholy has been the theme this winter. Neither this nor that. Finding the peace in the unsettling and the joy in the sadness. Laughing when that’s all there is left.
The other day i was out for a walk with parker and a neighbor invited us to a party. He looked up at me and said “i like to party, but i always regret it the next day.” And that is the hilarious i find in the mundane. These kids. They are awesome.
Shane just finished a remix and a video for his song “Runner.” He made a regular mix and a marathon mix. The video was shot when we went to Vegas last December for me to run the half marathon. Funnily enough i’m off again on thursday to run the half marathon again. I’m going with a friend this year and i’m feeling really sad that shane won’t be with me…
Each morning when i walk into work i hear a familiar clunk, clunk of apples being tossed into buckets. Harvest lasts about four weeks and each day a new batch of fruit pickers come in determined to exceed their quota and take home a few extra bucks. The orchard is strewn with empty buckets. Men and women who, chilled to the bone, just said “fuck it” and tossed their buckets and left.
I think of this as i rinse my mouth out after drinking a blueberry smoothie and my spit is speckled with black seeds on the white floor of the shower.
All these little moments that go unnoticed or forgotten. Day in and day out. The little beautiful moments disappear.
On my run today i passed through marshes and mountain passes. Snow littered the ground. Music filled my head and helped me to ignore my panting breath and softly stomping feet. I ran for an hour and didn’t see another living thing. I imagined running like this forever. Something ethereal, this trail running.
I sit at this little antique desk and stare out the window. My lake view is back. Leaves have let go of their grasp on the trees and the spindly branches frame the lake behind them. There are power lines running left to right and for several weeks every autumn their is a highway of squirrels going back and forth from nests to chestnut and acorn trees. Sometimes they drop nuts on cars driving below. The drivers always look up in startled rage and shake their fists at the critters above.
I guess the problem is that everything i want to say will hurt someone. I feel like it is no longer possible for me to write with a free spirit. I’ve read so many hurtful words in the past 18 months, written by friends and strangers.
I don’t want to write about depression or anxiety anymore because i don’t want to be friends with depression and anxiety anymore. I’ve danced that dance for too long. I don’t give them my ticket anymore. Move along.
I don’t want to say out loud how much i think about running because running occupies tons of my waking thoughts. Not running too. The constant injuries are boring even me.
Not running is a problem. I wonder what is wrong with me that i keep running until my bones fracture. I beg my body to not give up. Again. I just want to run, i plead in my head. I just want to run as far as i can away from my car and then turn around only to realize i have to go all the way back. Let the slow sad songs guide my body through exhaustion. All the shit that clogs my head left behind amongst the leaves and the spit and the sweat.
I don’t want to tell you how hard it has been to transition from working nights to working days. How proud i am to carry around the little stack of business cards with my name on them. How people come to me with problems and ask me how to fix them.
How much more it bothers me than the children that our cat went missing. Just disappeared. How terrifying i find that.
