i haven’t written in weeks. my running is sporadic. christmas continues to elude me and my heart is broken. as i bring 2009 to a close i can only hope that i can put what has been a rocky latter half of the year behind and rediscover the strength i know i have.

there’s no real need for me to detail the reasons for the relationship failure with jc. though i feel there are certain aspects over which i have the right to be angry, for the most part no blame can be attributed to anything more than bad timing. i like to hope that someday we can reestablish the friendship we had for so long before trying to be together, but to be honest, i’m not sure its something of which i am capable. i love him. very much. and to allow him back into my world in that capacity would merely be a tease and an excuse to keep alive a tiny bit of hope that i think is best cast aside. today marks one week since i’ve heard his voice or seen his face and in that week i have yet to go one day without tears. the day will come soon, very likely today for that matter, that i will have to see him. and i simply hope that i am enough of a professional to separate there from here. i have taken some time to explore and accept my role in things and the pattern i tend to play by has become clearer. and i know that much of this is not about him. so much more is about only me. that discussion, my friends, will follow someday soon when i have a better grasp on having to come face to face with painful self disappointment.

as i slowly regain firm footing and collect the emotions that are scattered around me, i am also prepared to recommit to the run. he never asked me to stray, but i chose to give him much of what i gave the road. now, my heart belongs again to me, to the miles, to the sound of empty footfalls on a long stretch of road or the dirt path that leads to nowhere. last week i made the decision that i will not run the gasparilla full. i need to heal ~ physically. i need to heal ~ emotionally. to take on another 26.2 right now was an avoidance with potentially dangerous results. so i stopped to breath. accepted the step back. and i am going to allow myself time to remember i run for fun. i run for emotional release. i run for camaraderie and friendship. i do not run to win. i do not run to prove a point. i do not run for anyone other than myself. last night i took the first steps in over a week. they started timid but found the rhythm. 4 miles. not completely pain-free. but by the time i was done i knew that the injury was more to the heart than to the ankle and that in time both would heal.

i’ve never been one for new year’s resolutions or the fan-fare that ends one calendar year and begins another. but this year i must find some peace of mind in putting things behind me and looking forward to the unknown that awaits. and this year i vow only one thing ~ to let go of the fear of letting others down and allow myself the right to define MY life.

i was born and raised in washington, DC. not maryland, not virginia. actually in DC. one by one, my family has all gone in different directions and four years ago my mom finally followed through on the threat to sell my childhood home of 30+ years ~ a move that ripped up the last of my hometown roots. though i still have friends in DC, trips “home” now take me further north and i never allowed myself a reason to go back. so for me, running the marine corp marathon in DC wasn’t just about the 26.2. it wasn’t just the challenge of another marathon or the finishers medal. for me, it was about going home.

i got into town late friday night and though saturday i went to the race expo, i made a very conscious effort to not venture further. i’d thought long and hard about things and i wanted my homecoming to be unique. i wanted to revisit my life in a way that really couldn’t be explained, only experienced. every runner runs for their own reason. and i readily admit mine is often about running away. so this was going to be different. very different. i was actually choosing to run through my life instead of from it. and to be honest i wasn’t sure if the emotional journey i was going to embark on would be a blessing or a curse.

sunday morning, standing at the starting line i felt no recognition of my surroundings. the race could have been anywhere. i was one of twenty-two thousand runners, energized and nervous, ready but not. i found myself focusing on the training. the preparation. and i started to not just wonder, but actually hope, that i’d been mistaken and that maybe it was simply going to be about running.

the national anthem. a starting gun. the shuffle to the front. typical run.
or not …

within a mile i knew i was home. the familiarity of the parkway, the creek, the bridges. even the smell was familiar. a strange combination of nature and city enveloped by a crisp mix of the fall chill. a couple of times i actually believed i saw myself ~ a tow-headed little tomboy ~ down playing in the water, searching for crayfish alongside my brothers. skipping stones, hopping from rock to rock. hiding in a magical oasis that most visitors fail to see. to many DC is merely a city. buildings and a hustle and bustle of crowds. but there’s a whole other side that filled my childhood. there was ice skating on the canal and riding horses through rock creek park. hikes along the potomac and picnics in the woods. tell me i grew up in a major metropolis and to this day i’d question it. i  look back on my childhood with mostly fond memories. and it was here, in the trees and waters of rock creek park, where many of those days were spent.

trees turned to row houses and water to brick roads as we came into georgetown ~ a place that offers up some stories of my past that are, at this moment, better left untold. we ran past the exorcist stairs ~ i’m sure very few runners recognized that landmark ~ and past the building that once was the art gallery i worked in. past what had been fino’s and crazy horse. past the first bar i ever talked my way into at the way too young and should have been innocent age of thirteen. many of my old stomping grounds were replaced with retail stores, but as i ran down M street the memories that instantly flooded over me were intense. some good, some bad. teenage years of angst and emotion. broken relationships. late night fun. if those sidewalks could talk i wouldn’t have wanted to listen. many of those days are better left forgotten.

i was so caught up in the nostalgia, i hardly paid heed to the fact that i was running a marathon. the only time i seemed to really acknowledge the run, was at each 5k marker. there i made a conscious effort to not simply run but to actually step right on the mark. i knew that in an instant my split time would be delivered by text to my two biggest fans; sab ~ back home in florida at her friend juju’s house and jc ~ sitting in a hotel room in pittsburgh, as i found out later, watching me live online. in my head, each 5k milestone sent a story. an insight into the memories the run was eliciting. and i wanted to share everything i rediscovered with them both.

it was somewhere around mile 13 or 14 that i first felt a preface of what was to come. the tendon i’d battled with for months started to bother me but it was familiar. a pain i’d come to know quite well and i knew wouldn’t stop me. i made a quick detour to a red cross tent for tylenol. better to be safe than sorry and it was a move that had fared me well in training. but there was something else that i couldn’t quite place. a stiffness, a dull pain that had no specific definition in my legs but i knew was there. i hoped whatever was lurking would be silenced along with the tendon.

by mile 18 i was really feeling the distance but i was far from done. i had more city to see. more memories to recapture. to many, i’m sure this was the most inspiring part of the run. memorials and monuments. the capitol building. history surrounding us. there is no other city that tells such an emotional story of our great country and the men and women who have fought to secure our safety and freedoms. but for me it wasn’t just about the buildings or the statues. i’d been here many times. sung at the white house. climbed the washington monument. waded in the reflection pool. many a time i’d played tour guide to friends. and it was here that i came to appreciate the unique beauty and culture of the city and of myself.

it was right before mile 24 where everything changed. the cursed mile 24. at disney it’s where i hit the mental wall and i have to wonder if mind over matter took me down again. i went to take a step and in almost slow motion i felt the lack of support my leg was about to give me. i’m not sure how i stayed on my feet. the cramp was so severe, the pain so intense, it stopped me dead in my tracks. i heard a woman on the side of the road ~ a race spectator~ ask if i needed help but i assured her i was ok. i tried to stretch my calf but immediately knew it to be a bad idea. had i done it, had i pushed through that stretch, i think my leg would have locked up. i had no other option but to keep moving. i walked for about 30 seconds and then decided i had to try and run through it.

i made it about half a mile before i had to walk again. i could barely bend my legs and my pace had dropped well below what i needed it to be. it wasn’t long before i knew without a doubt that my goal was gone from reach. i felt someone tap me on my shoulder and turned to see JJ. i would have thought him to be far in front of me and was shocked to see us side by side. come on, he motioned, and i fell into step beside him. but within seconds i was pulling ahead. i slowed down but he shook his head and gestured me on. “i’ll stay with you”, i told him, “you ran me in at disney, i’ll run you in here!” but he wouldn’t hear it. “i’m done,” he said, “you need to go”.

just past mile 25 i turned a corner and was surprised to see eko in the crowd. he ran in beside me and assessed my situation, told me that almost no one in our group was having a good race, and assured me the end was near. i wanted him to stay with me. i wanted someone to keep telling me i could make it in spite of the pain. but i knew JJ was somewhere back behind me and i knew he needed it more. i waved eko on. told him to drop back and support and almost as quickly as he’d jumped in to run with me, he was gone and i was back on my own. for a moment i was worried. unsure if i could run another step without reassurance but it was at that moment i vowed to run every last step of the race in spite of the voice inside my head telling me i wouldn’t make it. ironic ~ i spend most every day of my life wishing i had someone next to me, but pushing away anyone who wants to be just so i can prove to myself that i can do it on my own.

for months i’d agonized over the cruelty of the elevation chart. taped above my desk i often found myself cursing it silently ~ really? a hill? at mile 26? i knew it was coming and i knew that i had to ~ for whatever bit of pride i could walk away with ~ i HAD to run that hill. i watched runner after runner stop to walk and i weaved my way through them as they fell off to the side. and as much as i wanted to join them, somehow i didn’t. somehow i ran every last step of that hill and when i crossed the finish line i was surprised to find myself fighting back uncharacteristic tears.

physically i had succeeded again. i didn’t make my goal but i finished in 4:15:10 a PR by six and a half minutes and i had pushed through pain that would have stopped many. statistically i finished 6,822 overall ~ the top 30 percent ~ and among females and in my age division i was in the top 22 percent. but more rewarding was what i had embraced emotionally. there’s a lot i can’t ~ or maybe won’t ~ explain. specific memories that often make me question who i am today. but fact is, every step i took in DC ~ in the race and in my past ~ has made me the woman i am today. it’s not always easy and i don’t have it figured out. but in 26.2 miles i reread my story and learned without a doubt that i can and will always run the last hill.

i’ve gone and done it. slipped and fell. let down all the defenses and admitted to him ~ and to myself ~ that i am in love. my confession was abrupt, unexpected and ill-timed ~ or maybe ideally. he was sitting on a plane. only minutes to share before the flight attendant’s insistence that all electronic devices be shut down for takeoff. it wasn’t a sweet revelation. there was no joy in the words i wrote. the frustrations and fears i’d faced for weeks prior all came through in a jumbled mess of love and loss of faith. shock, hurt and fear were all he had time for before there was no choice but to leave words hanging in the air.

my expectation was that we were through. i needed it to be over. i needed to find a way back to solid ground and try to understand why the confidence i typically harbour had all but vanished. i was less than 48 hours from running a marathon that he’d stolen every ounce of emotion from ~ a feat i knew was potentially impossible if i didn’t regain some focus. and mere hours later it was i who was on a plane ~ off to see if i could find myself along that 26.2 mile route of childhood memories.

but that night i knew i needed to say what i’d only had the courage to write. i realized he deserved respect and maturity and an explanation. i finally felt ready to face the apology and what i felt was an inevitable goodbye i’d been running from for weeks. but apparently hours on a plane with nothing to do but think about what i’d said had opened up a door he’d shut on me. the fear that he’d succeeded in his attempts to push me away were a reality he hadn’t been prepared to face. the least we could do, he asked, was to try and regain the friendship we’d started with. take baby steps back to us. and communicate about all we’d been avoiding.

i took the time away for me. the race, the friends, the city, the memories. but the week was filled with words of comfort and hope. flirtations and expressions. dreams of maybe. i didn’t want to get my hopes up. to be taken back in to a place of insecurity and inconsistency. but i knew that if i walked away i’d be faced with inevitable regret and always be left wondering ”what if”.

once home and locked in each other’s arms we talked about all angles. it won’t be easy he promised. he was “freaked out”, unsure about going straight from there to here. but a week apart was empty. my absence unexpectedly hard. he admitted he “more than likes me”, “probably loves me”. and simply asked that i don’t give up.

i’m taking a deep breath. letting go and jumping off the edge with no guarantee of what’s to come. i anticipate a rocky road. there’s really no avoiding it given all given. the challenge for me is to simply enjoy. not worry about what the future holds. i have no idea if he’s my tomorrow. but today we make sense. it’s not easy for me but i’ll try my best to take this one today at a time.

well this will be a brief and final update before i head out to catch my flight up to dc to run the marine corp marathon. the last few weeks have been emotionally draining. i’m in over my head with things with jc and it’s come to a breaking point of sorts. the week away should do me well. clear my head. distance me from things. i simply hope that i can pull my head out of my ass and get my focus back onto the run in time ~ 41 hours until gun.

my running lately has been minimal but strong. sunday’s run in the cooler temps was more than i had hoped for. it was just me, the rising sun, my ipod, the water. 10 miles of therapy. from a rational standpoint i can say it was a training success. a sub-9 minute average and legs that felt like air. from an emotional standpoint i can say it was life redeeming. a reminder of my love of the run and the heart i bring to it. the last few days have left that feeling fleeting but  it’s there. not far beneath the surface and i’m trying to put everything else aside and reach for that from this moment forward.

as for my goal … it’s still somewhat undefined. it will all depend on whether or not i get my mo-jo back.

my hope; sub 4:05
my acceptable; sub 4:08
my all time kick-ass-but-i-doubt-it’s-going-to-happen; sub 4:00

semper fi.

i’m not going to list my mileage the last week and a half. it hasn’t been bad but it hasn’t been impressive either and honestly at this point i don’t think it will make a difference for me to detail it. i am now officially in taper. in 11 days i will be running my second marathon and i truly don’t know what to expect at this point. my body is not happy with me. it seems every day there’s a new pain to contend with. sometimes it’s minor, others i find myself worrying over, wondering if i can get past it all before the race. i’ve been trying to take it easy. to not push my lingering injuries too far. triguy keeps telling me i’m ready but the trick now is to simply make it to the starting line without a major issue. if i can make it there … i can make it to the end. it’s good advice.

this past saturday was my last long run. a third go at 22.5 miles. with 2 under my belt i felt pretty confident i could handle another but at 4 a.m. when i left my house it was 81 degrees out with 96 percent humidity and i knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. that turned out to be an understatement. this was by far the most brutal long run i’ve ever attempted. by mile 4 i was soaked to the bone with sweat. though we took the pace easy and paid extra close attention to hydration, at mile 18 a group of us tossed in the towel and called it quits. it seemed unneccessary. stupid even to push through another 4 1/2 miles.

so now all i have is the hope and faith that i’ve done enough. this week and next have some light mileage and this saturday calls for a “short” ten mile long run. go figure we are finally slated to get a cold front and starting temps should be in the upper 50s. ironic yet still desired to see how i fare in what is bound to be similar to race conditions. at this point i’m not sure where my goal stands. there’s a part of me that still dreams of the sub-4 but i need to be realistic. can i simply go to run without a goal? i think we all know better than that. i’ll let you know next week.

week of sept 27
total mileage 27

sunday 4 miles ~ trails
average 9:20

monday off

tuesday  5 miles ~ home tread
average 9:00

wednesday 6 miles ~ gornto
average 9:15

thursday off

friday 12 miles ~ fishhawk
average 9:27

saturday off

shoes
asics gt-2140 112 miles

these days it seems that if it’s not one thing it’s another. after doing 22.5 again on saturday i felt renewed. ready to tackle the last few weeks of training and really aim to determine a realistic goal. though i was tired and my quads hurt in ways they’ve never hurt before, i seemed to be holding my own once again. the week was a bit bare on the miles but i was trying not to push after having been off-and-on down for a few weeks. since sab was home this weekend, i was taking friday off work for my long run and newB had planned to join me. but thursday night found her with a sinus cold that left breathing a bit of a challenge. friday morning she opted to sleep in and meet me at the midpoint of my planned 18. i wasn’t thrilled. though there are times i need to run alone. need the solitude and the inner-reflection that heals my heart. the long run is not the place i prefer to do so. 18 miles alone is a long long time inside my head and a rough night with jc a few days prior (to be written about soon) left me convinced that excessive inner refelction was best avoided.

i started off strong. my pace kept straying fast but it felt good. but by mile 9 i was feeling pain in my left calf muscle which i had mildly tweaked on my wednesday run. as i had suspected might happen, newB was nowhere to be seen at the midpoint so after a potty and rehydration break, i set out alone on the return trip. but about a mile in i knew i was pushing it. the calf was tight. any incline hurt and i felt myself compensating my gait which can only lead to no good. i made it about another mile when newB drove by trying to find me and she joined in for the last of the run. but it wasn’t another mile that i knew it was best to stop. long runs are about stamina and having done the full 22.5 the weekend prior i feel pretty sure that distance will not be an issue come MCM. it’s my lack of ability to do speed and hill work that will destroy my goal. but at this point it’s not worth pushing through any twinge that could become a bigger problem. so we stopped and walked it back to newB’s car and called it a quits.

i was disappointed no doubt but i also trust my instinct when it come to my body. i spent the next two days massaging the crap out my calf with the roller bar and feel it’ll be ok. but the frustration of feeling as though my body has completely revolted against me is truly taking a toll ~ physically and mentally.

week of sept 20
total mileage 26.5 running, 8 biking, :45 swim, :30 DWR

sunday 30 minute DWR

monday 45 minute swim (laps)

tuesday  off

wednesday 8 mile bike ride ~ flatwoods

thursday 4 ~ home tread
average 9:30

friday off

saturday 22.5 ~ fishhawk 
average 9:47

shoes
asics gt-2140 85 miles

i’m back! at least enough to know that MCM is still a reality. this week started off at an all-time low. my mood and confidence were shot and i was becoming more and more certain that my trip to DC was going to end up merely a social visit to friends. i continued my retreat to the pool ~ the self torture of DWR and a pathetic attempt at laps in jc’s pool on monday ~ but all i wanted, all i needed, was the run i’d seemed to have lost completely. tuesday morning i woke after a series of empty dreams fighting back tears and feeling lonelier than i have in years. i’m not sure how i made it through the day but by tuesday afternoon i was teetering on the edge of a meltdown and as soon as i got home i let myself fall. i went through every emotion i typically scoff at ~ anger, sadness, frustration, hatred ~ before finally ending with nothing more than a void.

wednesday morning i knew it was time to stop being stupid. i called my orthopedic and scheduled an appointment for first thing thursday morning. i needed to know once and for all exactly what i was dealing with and to know if it was time to give up. the first bit of positive came from the xrays. no fractures, no tears. clean pictures that brought an immediate sense of relief. but the tendons weren’t quite so nice and pretty. the achilles had behaved ~ a huge plus in the grand scheme ~ but the tendon along the inner side of the ankle was inflamed and adding insult and injury to the muscles surrounding. i waited for the verdict. held my breath expecting the words “it’s time to take a break” but dr. H ~ a fellow runner ~ seemed to know my life was in his hands. “i want to treat. and i want to treat agressively. you will be running this marathon.” oh, how i love that man!

step one was a week long high dose of oral cortisone. and step two was to get me into PT for application of dexamethasone ~ a topical anti-inflammitory that should bring some immediate relief. when i think of something being applied topically i picture a cream. maybe accompanied by a little rub. never did i expected to be hooked to little wires and have little electric currents sent into my tendon. it hurt ~ like a b%#@* ~ but i walked out of PT with a renewed hope. (side note … i get to go through this fun procedure twice a week until MCM.)

that very evening i hit the treadmill. three miles ~ pain free ~ was all i hoped for. it felt good, very good, and when i hit mile three i couldn’t bring myself to stop. i ended up doing four and i wanted so desperately to do more but resisted the urge to be potentially stupid. the next day was the true test and it hurt a little but nothing like i’d been enduring. but by friday night i felt a little uncertain about saturday’s long run. i knew i could do at least the nine i’d done the weekend prior. i hoped i could get 13.5 and my all out dream was to push through to 18. but what i made it to exceeded all my expectations … 22.5 miles … the entire run. it wasn’t completely pain free. but tylenol at mile 13 helped take the edge off and get me through.

as H and i came up the final stretch, i heard the faster runners cheering us in to our finish and i flashed back to crossing the line at disney. a chill of emotion rushed over my entire body as i remembered that feeling of pure unadulterated pride and elation. it took all i had to hold back the tears of happiness knowing that i will have that again in a few weeks when i cross the finish line at MCM.

week of sept 13
total mileage 19.5 running, 9 biking, 1:25:00 DWR (deep water run)

sunday 4 miles ~ trails
average 9:15

monday 35 minutes DWR

tuesday  off

wednesday 4 miles ~ trails
average

thursday 2.5 ~ home tread
average 9:45

friday50 minute DWR

saturday 9 ~ fishhawk + 9 mile bike ride
average 9:38

shoes
asics gt-2140 58 miles

another week where i feel my body has failed me. this injury has shifted, diminished, reappeared and at this point consumed me. every time i felt ok. every time i tried the run. the next day would find me with just enough pain and stiffness to know that it was too soon. thursday was the worst. two and a half miles on the tread and i found myself sitting on my garage floor fighting back tears of disappointment. not wanting to succumb to the mental defeat, i finally chose not to cry but to get angry and release the emotion in the punching bag. somehow beating the crap out of it seemed to help.

having pretty much come to the conclusion it was tendonitis, i felt no need to go to my orthopedic simply to be told to take downtime. so instead, on friday, i opted to see a therapeutic massage specialist. a guy who runs in my group rarely enough that we had yet to meet. he had sent me a couple messages on facebook with advice over the last couple weeks and i hoped maybe he’d have some deeper input. and, if nothing else, i’d get the massage i’ve long since been denying myself. seeing him was the only positive that came from this week. his diagnosis is that my pain is all muscular. what little tendonitis he found was in the front of my ankle ~ a spot that hasn’t bothered me at all. ultrasound treatment and a massage that hurt so good left me hoping that all would be ok. run, he said. listen to your body but try. so saturday i did and made it nine miles. though a vast improvement from the 2.5 on thursday, still a far cry from the 26.2 awaiting me in five weeks. and the pain i can’t define has lingered into today and i’m quickly losing the battle against pessimism.

i know i will run MCM. and i know i will almost certainly PR. my training is so far ahead of where i was at disney and my physical and mental comfort and confidence on long mileage vastly improved. but i also know it’s time to accept that the sub four hour goal is unlikely. though i can and will accept the disappointment, i fear it’s done its damage.

“the sudden disappointment of a hope leaves a scar which the ultimate fulfillment of that hope never entirely removes.” ~ thomas hardy

i don’t like being wrong. i don’t mean making a mistake at work or misstating a fact ~ though really i’m not a fan of those scenarios either. but what bothers me most is to think it likely that i’m wrong about myself. as someone who always thinks before acting, reflects upon my inner psyche and truly believes i know myself inside and out, it’s extremely confusing to suddenly wonder if everything i thought i knew has been everything i deny it is.

it’s been a little more than two months since the night we first kissed. a night that threw me into severe panic. i was certain i wanted nothing of the sort with him. through a year and a half of flirtation and friendship i’d maintained that there was no chance i’d ever want to alter the dynamics of our relationship. that night i ran away as he tried to follow. disappeared to meet a friend and try to sort through the unexpected overwhelming emotion. his constant texts asking for me to please communicate went ignored as i tried desperately to figure out how to undo the mistake i had just allowed to happen. the next day he respected my fear. allowed me the space i demanded and let me define the distance. a well-timed trip put hundreds of miles between us and i searched for stable ground. i forced down feelings and replayed the story to friends over tacos and margaritas unsure of who i was trying to convince more of my regret ~ them or me. truth be told, each day without a word left me just a little more empty. by the time i returned, i think i knew that the step had already been taken and it was simply a matter of time before everything changed.

from the beginning the limitations were clear. kids and training. work and friends. neither of us claimed to be able to give more than stolen moments and occasional nights. and the professional need for secrecy meant no one ever had to know i wasn’t the strong, emotionally controled woman i aim to be. my life, though suddenly different, could remain essentially the same ~ an ideal arrangement for a woman wrapped up in her independence.

but somewhere, somehow something has changed. the comfort of falling asleep in someone’s arms or the giddy feeling when he texts in the middle of the day for no apparent reason other than to say he’s thinking of me. unfamiliar feelings of insecurity and instability. words silenced on the tip of my tongue for fear of stumbling closer to a cliff i see as inevitable. i’m suddenly scared to death by what i see within me. i make the moments. adjust schedules to ensure the night. the silly texts are now my words and individuality fleeting as i find a comfort in the word “us”. the one who was supposed to be a simple pleasure is suddenly an every waking moment distraction.

but where i once was sure he would always harbor the stronger feelings. where i once walked and talked with confidence that kept him at arms length. i now wonder if the unstable ground, if the desire to let go and fall, is mine and mine alone. am i altering the agreement. asking for more than was ever an expected outcome. i hesitate to even ask. to even voice the confusion i’m trying so hard to ignore. can i wear my heart on my sleeve and not create a panic that destroys the potential. but is it him i aim to scare? is it really him i don’t want to lose? or myself.

there’s no point in even breaking out my mileage this week. i can sum it up in one short four mile run. toss in a 14 mile bike ride and a 40 minute deep water run and that’s all she wrote. the run was simply a test of the achilles and it failed. pain set in at about mile 3.5 and i knew i needed more time. so i retreated to the planned cross training but even that became minimal. every attempt was thwarted be it by timing, weather or other aches and pains. 

but where i’ve failed to challenge myself physically this week i’ve far made up emotionally. i feel as though i’ve been on a roller coaster of highs and lows ~ all essentially self-induced. without my run i’ve slept. too much. and where some see it as about time i relaxed, i know it as other. i’m avoiding. retreating from the thoughts that i can’t shut off in my head. trying desperately to run away from the over analysis and conclusion i’ve already written. i do not sleep. not in excess. i’m a creature of insomnia. of thoughts i curse yet relish. when i reach for sleep. when the bed becomes a cave. it’s not good.

in a few hours i’ll venture out hopefully in the rain to attempt miles. trials beckon and i pray for mud. i don’t want to run fast. i don’t need to push the body’s limit. but i need to feel the run. the water in my face and dirt seeping through my shoes. i need to escape these plagued dreams so tonight i can get no sleep.