On Being Angry

I’ve had a couple of upbeat blog posts as I try to navigate this injury. I try to keep upbeat about it, partly because who wants to read a bunch of downer info and partly to keep myself going. But you know what? Sometimes I’m angry. I’m totally fucking pissed. The rage inside me about this is so hot I’m sometimes afraid to reach inside myself and touch it. I could scream and rip the skin of people’s faces, that’s how mad I can be. I could drive right into one of these snow banks.

I am trying to do something here, something important to myself. I have made a lot of sacrifices for my dream of running faster, getting better. I get up early. I run when the weather is unpleasant. I say no to cake and even croissants and sometimes even to ice cream. I do not lack for motivation.

Despite these things I have not run outside since December 7^th and I have not run well since November 2^nd. I work hard at my job. I work hard as a parent. I take care of things, even boring things. I generally remember to feed the cats and I always remember to pay the babysitter. I keep track of a million details of life for myself and for my children.

What I want in return is the chance to work hard and see results. That is all. I am not expecting this to be easy, though it might turn out to be fun. I don’t need the Rise and Shine video. I need this body to heal and do what it is supposed to do. So, if you mention you’re having trouble getting out the door because it’s cold, you’re tired, you’re not in the mood and your mojo is AWOL, well, I might tell you to get your ass in gear. I’ll try to do it politely.