I am trying to become addicted to running. At least that is what is promised. The people I know that like to run are some of the greatest people I know. So it was only a matter of time, I guess, for Clyde to "suggest" that I train to run a half marathon. With Robin 'the machine" Rae to crack the whip. I am always looking for a reason to live, and this seems really good since I will be occupied until next January. So I have begun.
It kind of sucks and kind of feels good. Mostly good, I think. I like that I am doing something that is good for me as opposed to my complete inward destruction as of late. I like that I am doing the most unlikely thing that a Karen like me would do. It's like I'm sticking it to the man. Sort of. I am insane enough to rebel against myself. And it may make my butt look better. Wins all around.
I have no illusions of making a Nike commercial for mature runners. I doubt even this whole addiction talk. But in a masochistic way, I am changing my world. I am doing the opposite of what I want to do which is cry, drink, and sleep. And cry. And flip shit over. I am outside and sweating. I am trying. Yes, I will admit to doing this solely for Clyde and Robin. I have promised to complain the whole time. There is not much I wouldn't do for either of them.Throw in Johnny Mason, and I'll rob a bank. Actually that would be easier. But life's not easy now, is it? So I will keep going, and in a small way I will maybe cultivate hope in me. I have none, you see. Thank you to my dear friends for loving me. It's why I am even writing this. A little Bird called and suggested it.
Thank you all for the prayers and love.
I'm not sure about the addiction part, Karen, but I've been running for 6 years now-ever since my son, Elisha, joined the army. The summer he left for bootcamp in Georgia was the hottest in over 20 years-2 recruits died from the heat that summer. Every morning I would leave the house and just run-not far at first and certainly not fast-but running was better than curling up and imploding on the inside from extreme fear. I ran when he left for Afghanistan the first time, I ran when he was injured in an IED explosion, I ran when he recovered and went back to that place for a second deployment and I will be running when he leaves this summer for his third deployment. At first, I was just running to silence the flying monkey demons that would attack at any and all times. Eventually, I ran because it was during my running that I finally stopped speaking and could hear God in the silence. Funny what you can learn about yourself when you finally stop talking and listen to the One who knows you AND loves you madly.
ReplyDeleteSo, keep running or walking or trying-there is hope to be discovered. Love, Wendy
I hate flying monkey demons. But I can relate to needing silence. The struggle for oxygen promotes it, too. Thank you. I will be thinking and praying for Elisha. you have no idea how encouraging your words are. It's jsut so good to know you are there. Or here. Love you.
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