this morning, i woke up sick...
[there are no surprises]
saturday's plague, although downgraded to a milder version of it's gnarly self, had been simmering underneath, inside and all around this immunosuppressed broken doll.
no-one's playing the princess card here, but even royalty shouldn't run 3.76 miles when they are still snotting into multiple fistfuls of tissues and take tablets stamped with "this will suppress your immune system and make a cold last for 15 weeks..."
[but, it felt so good...]
then irritatingly, like a ripped cuticle you can't ignore, it became a life lesson...
as i lay in bed all day long, cheeks alternating dry then wet, i stared at the gun-metal gray walls, trying not to focus on how it's my favorite color. trying not to focus on how the academy awards are probably a mile away from here. and trying not to focus on how i always thought i would wear a gown of gun metal gray with my long strawberry blond hair, to the oscars.
crammed into a twin, my fur baby molded firmly against my exhausted form, i birthed a mini ephiphany.
[convenient take out size]
i always want more, more, more of what feels good. more acting jobs, more pills, more alcohol, more of the life i used to have...
for in running 3.76 miles before i was ready, i was metaphorically and literally fast tracking my recovery. in the euphoria of that 3rd mile, i was back in my old life, empowered, independent, energetic, healthy.
and yesterday, my head knew my body wasn't ready, but my heart told me to fly.
[never have i wanted to run more after hearing our silver station wagon start up tonight. how can a heart hold so much gratitude then dissolve into so much pain? it seesaws back and forth in this gut-churning, head-rocketing amusing park...]
i need to stop running.
from my excuses, from my responsibilities and from my reactivity.
stop. breathe. listen.
["everything must change"]
and when it's right. i'll run rubber like a m-f...