After skipping yesterday, this afternoon's five miles felt pretty good. I was feeling down before heading out... Running isn't the source of any strength, necessarily, but it is sometimes the source of my knowing I have strength. Running down the driveway to the road and around the corner is a steady repetitive reminder that I can and that I am. My miles are a line that connects me from one day to the next, a line that I might need to follow, to hold onto in the dark. And it's a line that I draw myself.
I'm operating in fits and starts right now. I'm cleaning closets and mopping floors.
And yes, I'm thinking. I'm pausing from time to time to write something down, a line or two that stick in my mind as something true. I don't know if they are, but they are there and need a home.
I'm asking myself some questions and telling myself some truths. But I'm also in a fog, sort of disoriented from reality. Maybe I should stay in it until I'm ready to come out. More likely, maybe I didn't know what reality was. That's cliched. Maybe I was telling myself stories. I'm always waiting for the time when I will finally get my shit together.
I just took a minute to watch a video and somewhere in there was a reminder of T. I could really use a dance from her right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment