so i went running. this morning. voluntarily. after breakfast.
afterward, i asked myself, "who are you, and what you done with my brain?"
i never do this. ever since i started running as a kid, i've hated running in the morning. hated. as in, i'd promise my dad that we would do a special dad-daughter bonding run, and then when he'd poke his head in my door at oh-my-god o'clock (have i mentioned how much i hate reveille?), i'd groan and pull the cover over my head. here's the trick though (in other words, here's the twenty-years-later-rationalization)--my extreme reluctance and usual last minute refusal made those few runs in which i did participate all the more special. see? i was brilliant, even at age twelve. either that, or i was just a really lazy daughter with an astonishingly forbearing father.
***
my view toward morning runs may be changing though. perhaps it's my new perspective and gratitude at finally being able to get out there after four years of being really fucked up. i say that, and part of me wants to say, "no, no, you were fine, you were just having some troubles, that's all. bumps in the road. happens to everybody." part of me wants to say that. the rest of me knows that's a big, fat lie. i suppose it's coming out now, if it hasn't done so before, but the past four years have been vicious. i can't think of any other way to explain it. yes, i've had good times, some exciting times, have grown, blah, blah, blah, but there was a suffering that's inexplicable to the healthy population.
***
the problem with growing up and being told you have so much promise? you start to believe it. i swallowed that pill whole. academically and athletically, i excelled, and found a high place in my surroundings because of it. sure, i found myself a bit ostracized due to typical teenage mores, but i dealt. my talents were a treasure, and i guarded them fiercely. maybe because i was so focused on what i could do, i never saw it coming. damn thing was stealthy too, and it quietly picked away at me, at the bedrock of personal gifts on which i stood.
pick, pick, pick, pick. dig, dig, dig, dig,
AXE, AXE, AXE, AXE.
in college, it came hard and fast my junior year, and integral parts of my life fell away. i'd lost my running and my art. i could barely keep my head together enough to maintain my GPA. it felt like i was murdering my soul just to maintain the woman everyone thought i was. then i lost an entire social circle. they thought it was because i chose someone; they were wrong and right. it wasn't someone else; it was me. i chose to attend to my health. but because i chose myself over the group, they wrote their own narrative and actively shunned me.
after college, separation from betrayal helped the healing, and i returned running. my health was worsening, but i refused to acknowledge it. it can't kill me, i proclaimed to myself.
lie.
i didn't realize how important the resurrected runs had become until they once again disappeared. i'd turned an ankle one time too many, thus knocking my pelvis out of alignment and tweaking my already tweaked biomechanics just a little too far. the mysterious piercing pain in my foot would plague me for almost a year. i tried running again, but then came the chase at the gym. even with jiu jitsu classes, i was still too afraid. putting 100% on the mat, i naturally came away with some injuries, further prohibiting runs. and last year, having quit jiu jitsu because it was triggered too many fears, the exhaustion sank in, dragging me to new lows.
i won't hide it. i know the emergency room routine. i know what it's like to focus so hard on driving to the hospital because, though you care nothing for yourself, you know it's absolutely wrong to make anyone else suffer for your self-loathing. i even know that little blank room--four walls, what can loosely be termed a bed, freezing air that numbs you all the way to your innards, and one door. a door with a small window at eye level and no handle on the inside. i know the hours of time with no one but yourself, when every thought you can possibly have slithers into your mind, becoming a strangling mess. despite the chaos and death and dying and life and saving on the outside, it's quiet on the inside. the hospital's protocol to prevent suicide thinks of everything but this: the void left by silence is suffocating.
***
God bless running though. it wasn't my savior, but it is a grace. though it's taken, oh, i'd say at least the past year, as well as the blood, sweat, and patience of loved ones, i've been able to rebuild and put myself back together. as everything fell back into place, including my art, i knew there was one more thing i wanted. there remained a part of me still out there, a part of my "aiua" on the Outside (if you've read the Ender's Game series), one that i needed to call back. and so running comes again.
perhaps i ran (this morning) (voluntarily) (after breakfast) (which i never do) because i saw it as a survival move. after all, it's supposed to hit get in the 90s this afternoon, and i needed to weigh sleeping in versus passing out and ending up in yet another ER. this has happened before, FYI. but more than that, i think i went out there because it was a soft, beautiful morning, and i could again put one foot in front of the other. i'm grateful to be alive.
afterward, i asked myself, "who are you, and what you done with my brain?"
i never do this. ever since i started running as a kid, i've hated running in the morning. hated. as in, i'd promise my dad that we would do a special dad-daughter bonding run, and then when he'd poke his head in my door at oh-my-god o'clock (have i mentioned how much i hate reveille?), i'd groan and pull the cover over my head. here's the trick though (in other words, here's the twenty-years-later-rationalization)--my extreme reluctance and usual last minute refusal made those few runs in which i did participate all the more special. see? i was brilliant, even at age twelve. either that, or i was just a really lazy daughter with an astonishingly forbearing father.
***
my view toward morning runs may be changing though. perhaps it's my new perspective and gratitude at finally being able to get out there after four years of being really fucked up. i say that, and part of me wants to say, "no, no, you were fine, you were just having some troubles, that's all. bumps in the road. happens to everybody." part of me wants to say that. the rest of me knows that's a big, fat lie. i suppose it's coming out now, if it hasn't done so before, but the past four years have been vicious. i can't think of any other way to explain it. yes, i've had good times, some exciting times, have grown, blah, blah, blah, but there was a suffering that's inexplicable to the healthy population.
***
the problem with growing up and being told you have so much promise? you start to believe it. i swallowed that pill whole. academically and athletically, i excelled, and found a high place in my surroundings because of it. sure, i found myself a bit ostracized due to typical teenage mores, but i dealt. my talents were a treasure, and i guarded them fiercely. maybe because i was so focused on what i could do, i never saw it coming. damn thing was stealthy too, and it quietly picked away at me, at the bedrock of personal gifts on which i stood.
pick, pick, pick, pick. dig, dig, dig, dig,
AXE, AXE, AXE, AXE.
in college, it came hard and fast my junior year, and integral parts of my life fell away. i'd lost my running and my art. i could barely keep my head together enough to maintain my GPA. it felt like i was murdering my soul just to maintain the woman everyone thought i was. then i lost an entire social circle. they thought it was because i chose someone; they were wrong and right. it wasn't someone else; it was me. i chose to attend to my health. but because i chose myself over the group, they wrote their own narrative and actively shunned me.
after college, separation from betrayal helped the healing, and i returned running. my health was worsening, but i refused to acknowledge it. it can't kill me, i proclaimed to myself.
lie.
i didn't realize how important the resurrected runs had become until they once again disappeared. i'd turned an ankle one time too many, thus knocking my pelvis out of alignment and tweaking my already tweaked biomechanics just a little too far. the mysterious piercing pain in my foot would plague me for almost a year. i tried running again, but then came the chase at the gym. even with jiu jitsu classes, i was still too afraid. putting 100% on the mat, i naturally came away with some injuries, further prohibiting runs. and last year, having quit jiu jitsu because it was triggered too many fears, the exhaustion sank in, dragging me to new lows.
i won't hide it. i know the emergency room routine. i know what it's like to focus so hard on driving to the hospital because, though you care nothing for yourself, you know it's absolutely wrong to make anyone else suffer for your self-loathing. i even know that little blank room--four walls, what can loosely be termed a bed, freezing air that numbs you all the way to your innards, and one door. a door with a small window at eye level and no handle on the inside. i know the hours of time with no one but yourself, when every thought you can possibly have slithers into your mind, becoming a strangling mess. despite the chaos and death and dying and life and saving on the outside, it's quiet on the inside. the hospital's protocol to prevent suicide thinks of everything but this: the void left by silence is suffocating.
***
God bless running though. it wasn't my savior, but it is a grace. though it's taken, oh, i'd say at least the past year, as well as the blood, sweat, and patience of loved ones, i've been able to rebuild and put myself back together. as everything fell back into place, including my art, i knew there was one more thing i wanted. there remained a part of me still out there, a part of my "aiua" on the Outside (if you've read the Ender's Game series), one that i needed to call back. and so running comes again.
perhaps i ran (this morning) (voluntarily) (after breakfast) (which i never do) because i saw it as a survival move. after all, it's supposed to hit get in the 90s this afternoon, and i needed to weigh sleeping in versus passing out and ending up in yet another ER. this has happened before, FYI. but more than that, i think i went out there because it was a soft, beautiful morning, and i could again put one foot in front of the other. i'm grateful to be alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment