Thursday, March 8, 2018

waters of unrest

Unrest is an awful area for the heart to be treading water in. It is, however, how you learn and how you grow and how you be a "better person" and how you get to that point in your life where you think back and realize you're not at that point where you used to be anymore.

For the second time in the past 48 hours I have felt the urge to chuck my computer through a huge glass window out onto Central street and watch it get smashed to pieces by a random car zooming in front of the Denver skyline. And then I'll lean through the glass window and holler to the person if they could kindly throw their car in reverse and run over it again? Thanks.
Sometimes urges are so real you can actually see your urges acting themselves out. Your eyelids shut and flip a channel to show you another version of your life. For a few seconds you get to see an alternate universe where you do throw your computer through a glass window; you do shatter the wine glass in your hand, you do tell that person to fuck off, you do run your car into the back of theirs. It is not always rage but mine usually is.


After racing Portland I couldn't get healthy enough to start another training regimen. It's safe to assume this was problematic for my soul, but I was able to throw myself into work because it turns out opening and keeping a restaurant together is difficult and there is constantly more things to do than minutes in the day. I would say 'seconds in the day' but I don't wish to be dramatic.

I took some time off from running, told people I needed a break for a bit. That wasn't true. Sometimes when you feel a wave of life coming on that you're not sure you can handle, you abandon what you really truly know. It's a sense of panic that seems to be low-key and last for what seems to be months, but turns out being an unfortunate but necessary life stage. The beginning is a dabble with your toes. The water is so cold, but if you leave your feet in long enough, your skin will get used to it. When you go in further, the new water line is shocking, yet becomes the new norm, and is regulated.

I got very sick. Twice.
I went home to Michigan. Twice.
I worked with sciatic pain.
I tried to run through sciatic pain.
I yelled at Zac, and experienced true regret.
I had a sinus infection.
I have allergies?
I tried to tell myself I'd just focus on climbing more.
I cried at work.
I almost quit my job after a full night's rest.
I stared in a mirror and told myself I was fat.
I cried myself to sleep.
It was rough weather outside the panes for so long.

I'm on the other side of that, now. My toes found some slimy mud and the shore came into sight. I gained some traction and treading circles became real steps. I relaxed my neck and brought my chin down as air was more accessible. I didn't have to hold my head up anymore. My shoulders were free, but the waves held onto the hips as the legs continue to fight the pull of the water. They are heavy steps and they are slow steps, but they are steps. Ribs almost burst through the skin as the lungs rapidly suck in the air. With a relentless walk, the feet finally made imprints on hardened soil. There are just a few strides and they are difficult because the quads are shaking and the calves are so tight. Few but strong, until the knees give completely and the body collapses into the hot, tiny sand. I stare out at the ocean with arms of bricks and a slouch that does the spine no favors. I blink away drops of water and some stay on the lashes. They are salty but they're not tears. It's a heavy sigh with a soft "Goddamn." as the gaze falls to tiny sand sticking to toes. Still.

My hair is so thick and heavy it slicks back instead of parting and falling around my shoulders. The sun will dry the whispy curls first, leaving the heavy chunks to hang and stay wet at the core. It won't look good but we can fix it later. Though the sun dries the water, the salt will remain. An invisible, gritty film to be licked off your lips before the first real drink of water.


I want life to be as easy and rhythmic as a comfortable running pace. I want to be able to count to three with steps and start over with a new breath. I want to be able to know when it will be over. To get stronger you do hard and fast repetitions. You run so hard you experience slight vision loss. Your muscles have to scream and your lungs have to want to work harder than they're capable. All of that is tolerable because there is a watch that tells you when it will be over. You can count your pain away. You will know that pain isn't pointless. It has a purpose and you have chosen to apply it for reasons rooted in logic and science.

All it really took was a new computer and a pretty nice four mile run. I probably write too much about running and how I think it is much like life, but it is often just too perfect it cannot be ignored. Maybe it is so perfect for me because life and running became so deeply intertwined that to separate them is not an option. If they were separated, I would have to do something else with my life.
Something else like swim.