running

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.

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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.

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Last weekend i ran my fifth half marathon. It was my slowest time yet. That’s okay, monster hills are not really my friend.

I woke up this morning and dragged my butt out for what is called a “recovery run.” The idea that you move all the lactic acid that’s built up in your muscles from the push of racing. When i run now i pay attention to all the various ailments i’ve had this year, especially the four stress fractures. My mind loves running, my body hates it. Chronic injury. Pain free runs are few and far between, but i’ve become pretty attuned to pain that i should listen too and other little ticks that are just my body disliking what i am doing to it.

During my run i had a whole new ouch. In my ankle. Interesting, i thought, i’ve never had ankle issues. I dragged myself to physio. Turns out my achilles is angry with me. Something about those hills which are still not my friend.

In the 19 months i’ve been running i have now injured every muscle group or bone in my legs except my hamstring. Hamstring, you’re on notice.

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