“Life is always either a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.” ~Edith Wharton
The visual struck me while talking about shoes. Yeah shoes. I have a thing for shoes. We haven’t had any money in a while so I just hoard my old ones, and keep an eye on ebay for those people who buy a shoe and hate it. Running shoes are a real love- hate for most people. A shoe one person loves and runs miles in happily, another will put on and hate within the first mile. Ebay is a great place to find them. So while busy looking at shoes and talking to my TM buddy, I imagined walking into Fleet Feet and staring at nothing but running shoes in every color, shape and style. I honestly think I might need to be sedated. I’m not sure how long they let you pet the displays, or if they would become alarmed if I sat on the floor staring at the brightest neon yellow ones I could find. Doubt they train the running store employees in psychological interventions. Would it be odd if I needed a phone session, right then and there?
I can’t possibly be the only person out here in the world that has this bizarre fascination with shiny neon shoes? oh, the possibilities!
This will be a miscellaneous football rant. I happen to love football. Grew up watching football, but lately it is just a bit much.
I have to rant about the Notre Dame player. If I hear one more report on this I honestly think I might puke. ENOUGH. Seriously. It doesn’t matter, does it? If people are dumb enough to think this guy is blameless in the whole mess, so be it. I just can’t even believe the endless press this is generating. He’s a college athlete. Yes, sure a Heisman contender. Yes, a good player and probable NFL draft, but who cares? Why do we have this idiotic 24/7 news cycle that grabs onto stories like this. All we hear for weeks is the same shit, over and over. Honestly, it is endless.
In a totally different vein, but also football related, is the Junior Seau case. The family filed a civil suit against the NFL. The suit claims the NFL knew the risk of TBI and withheld that information from players. REALLY? You have got to be kidding. At the very core of football, as a sport, is the tackle. Without tackling there is no defense. So much tackling that the players wear helmets. Yeah, really. They actually wear helmets. There isn’t a single player in the country that doesn’t understand the risk of this sport. Strapping a state of the art helmet onto your head speaks volumes. Never mind the emphasis that was placed on brutal hits. The NFL has changed. Hits that were once common place, imagine Taylor’s hit on Joe Montana and multiply that by 10. It was the way the sport was played. Given what these players are being paid should we even care? They signed a contract, and showed up at camp. The day they put that uniform on they accepted the risks. It just boggles my mind. They get paid to lay it out there. To take a hit, and to lay a hit on another player. That is the game. Now because the media is focused on concussions and CTE the rules change. No hitting the QB above the shoulder, no helmet to helmet hits (intentionally), and no hitting an unprotected receiver in the secondary. Unreal. It makes me nuts. This is a sport of hits. Let them hit. Sure we are seeing this correlation with CTE in players with histories of head injuries. Yes, some of them commit suicide. Others become violent. True, but so do people who have no history of TBI. Think the media is painting this with a broad brush, especially given so much more research has to be done. It is the infancy of the study into this correlation and into CTE. There are thousands of retired players who don’t kill themselves or anyone else. Many who played in an era of poor protective equipment. Helmets have changed and developed as new materials have been used. Why don’t these guys lose their marbles and put a bullet in their heads? Why do the media lay blame on a condition that can only be diagnosed posthumously? I just don’t buy it yet. Even if I did, they are athletes that get paid to do a job. The risks are clear as day. Why change the sport to protect them? What is next?
Should we start putting age limits on gymnasts? Because we know years of repeated stress and injury on prepubescent girls stunts growth and leads to crippling long-term disability in many? Seems that might be a far more useful sport to look at. These are children. They don’t know the cost the first time they set foot on a tumbling mat. Should they sue? I think there are sports that need new rules, but football ISN’T one of them. That is my rant for today…
“He who does not understand your silence will probably not understand your words.”
On the way home from the donut run last night I was busy carrying on about diets, fat and yeah, more fat. This went on for quite a few miles. Eventually my partner looked over and said “what you have an eating disorder now?”.- my brain recoiled from that comment, as if she were judging me harshly. not about having on ED or not, but as if it were one more fucking thing for her to deal with. Like adding a chore, after a day of running errands. I was mad.
I looked over at her and assured her I did not have the discipline for an ED, but that I clearly had a very distorted view of what my body looks like. But I was pissed. I said “we have been together more than 15 years and you ask me that, have you even been paying attention?” That didn’t go over too well. It was a breath away from being a fight, and I was all ready to go. How the fuck could she possibly be so damn clueless. I realized, as I have thought about it, my life has been spent talking to therapists. It never translated over into talking at home. How could I expect her to “know me” if I have never offered it up. am I to expect she understand my silence. or to piece together 15 years of bread crumb trails to understand me. She is super smart, but that is expecting a lot. I expect that. Did she not notice my sense of wonder and happiness as my weight bottomed out? or the endless label reading? bitching and sniping at myself about that extra inch. why I took a scale out of our home for years? the red marker scrawl on my bathroom mirror shrieking my weight at me before I had even opened my eyes in the morning…that has never changed, all these years. It was me and is still me. Where was she? did she wonder what the fuck was going on? did it ever cross her mind maybe this wasn’t quite okay. I just don’t even understand. Though she would never even begin to be able to relate to any of this. From the day we met, her weight has never much fluctuated. I’m not sure she has ever even owned a scale, or has ever retired a pair of jeans because she went up a size (or two or three). Nope, her jeans get retired when they have more holes than fabric, and only then under severe duress. Unreal. The only inkling she has ever had is when she was uncomfortable and bloated before her surgery last year. She would look down at her tiny little belly and bitch endlessly. “this isn’t me!!” she’d declare to nobody but the mirror. Yeah, welcome to the real world. The one where you pay for it when you eat potato chips and dip or swiss cheese my the stack nightly. When popcorn and diet coke are staples in your diet. People don’t do that, and if they do they are not 110 soaking wet.
I cannot possibly expect her to get it. that would be far too much of a stretch. I can still be angry. I can be mad about the judgmental exasperated comment from last night. Instead of taking her head off, which I really wanted to do. I said “I don’t see my body the way other people see it. I see fat where they see thin. I see perfect when they seem alarmed. Call that whatever the fuck you want, and it has been that way my whole life. I would have hoped you noticed that for fuck’s sake.” It was tempting to pepper her with every other thing about me she probably doesn’t understand, or hasn’t noticed. I wish I had a tenth of her ability for denial. It would be a welcome addition to my emotional toolbox. I don’t have it. I’m still angry about the exchange we had. I just wish she knew me the way my therapists know me. Or that she took the time to notice what was going on beyond her twitter feed. But here in the silence there is not understanding, only the heavy oppressive hum of the appliances in this land of make believe.
So in the absence of running all I have thought about is donuts. Seriously! So much so that tonight at 10:30 I was at DD for a bavarian cream. I don’t even like bavarian cream donuts until now. Go figure. The jelly donut was just a chaser, I keep telling myself.
I have eaten my way thru the house this evening. Sampling a bit of everything. It is as if I haven’t eaten in months. As my weekly mileage increased my weight had dropped, but then came back up again. I don’t know what the answer for that is, unless it is just muscle mass. I didn’t think my weight was too low though my period has all but stopped at this point. It’s here for a day and gone again, no semblance of a schedule. Strange for me since I was always to the day regular. Maybe this break will get it back on a normal schedule. Still the crazy donut cravings are a bit much. I’ll have to make an agreement with myself to keep them to a minimum. Bavarian cream? really!!1 no more DD at night and tomorrow I am going to the gym. I’ll find something to do with my gimpy foot.
so I finally decide to stop my stubborn assault on my foot. Tomorrow at the crack of dawn I go see the doctor. Chances are pretty good that I’ll have no running for 2 months. But to look on the bright side it will be Spring in 60 days 🙂 I think I can manage that. Might be a bit rough initially, but I can do it. I went for one more brief run at the gym on those heavenly new treadmills. I swear they are amazing. Though my foot is not in agreement this evening. Ice has become my very best friend.
I actually feel like I am in a pretty solid place. Almost like my feet finally found the floor. A floor that hasn’t really been there these past months. It is the first time I have felt this way in a while. I didn’t want to trust it initially. I kept thinking it would shift hard again. seems to be holding. A new week stretches out in front of me and I actually feel good about it. I am not dreading this week. I’m not even dreading the coming weeks. For some reason I feel strong enough to put up a fight over this place. Strange shift, but a good one. Before I was looking for any reason to run. Literally. No, I think I need to stand still for a bit and give this a try. We may still lose this place, but I will know, in the end I did not run from the fight.
Strangely enough, I think this is exactly what needed to happen right now.
Today was tough, no polo due to a possible virus at the farm I play at. All I wanted to do was go for my long weekend run. Eventually it wore me down and I ended up at the gym. Unfortunately for me I have to walk past all the treadmills to get to the elliptical. Stubborn as I am I decided to run. Pretty dumb, and quite painful. I actually had myself convinced all was fine if I could just run for a bit. So much for rational eh? I toughed it out for about a mile and a half before I came to my senses and walked. or shall I say limped. The timing just sucks. I have a couple weeks off from polo while this quarantine happens. Sensible would be to see the doctor and get off my foot for a bit. I really have no desire to go. In fact I have spent the entire day convincing myself it is all fine and I can just keep right on running. I know. I know. Idiotic. But there is that drive to find the empty place in my brain. I can’t seem to find it. the only place it exists is in those endless miles of trail or pavement. What am I going to do if I can’t find that? It is the only place in my life that I can escape the endless worry and thinking. It never stops, unless I run. I know I should stop and listen to what my body has to say. I do know that. I am just unable to envision a week or day without the emptiness and peace. Today was a stubborn day. I’m not ready to take a break, not just yet. Maybe tomorrow when I wake up I can come to my senses. For now I’ll just pretend like my foot isn’t hurting.
It has been a better couple days in the head. Not sure why. Maybe it is the 60 days till Spring, or just finally getting my head out of my ass and not being so bitchy. Whatever it is, I’ll take it. who knows, maybe getting clocked up side the head playing polo did it. Stranger things have happened.
Unfortunately my run schedule will have to take a break while my foot heals a bit. Doubtful I’ll make the half marathon in March. Spoke to the ortho guy today. It’s going to take a while. I have to figure out something to do with myself in the interim. Swimming I guess. So frustrating! I was really happy with the progress, but the shift from trail running my long runs to road running was no good. Doesn’t help I am stubborn and keep right on running. If I want to do TM in the Spring I’ll need to stop running for a while. Not sure how I am going to keep myself sane.
“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function. One should, for example, be able to see that things are hopeless and yet be determined to make them otherwise.” ~F. Scott Fitzgerald
hmmm…geez, wish that were me!
Today has been a weird one. Have a nasty case of the shakes. Thankfully I’m not a neurosurgeon and filing can be completed regardless of how bad my hands shake. This goes a bit beyond that though, it is a strange restlessness. Almost an inner shakiness as well. It doesn’t happen all that often, but when it does it really feels bad. I usually go down my checklist- did I eat?, did I take my meds? etc etc. I just continue on and pretend it doesn’t feel quite so bad. I’m just wrapping up the 2012 office filing. It is great to see all those piles of paper disappear into their rightful folders and cabinets. Clean desk ready to accept the piles of paper for 2013. I tend to put off filing. It is a much hated activity in this house. It runs neck and neck with doing dishes. Neither I, nor my partner like doing either. The papers usually pile up, and the bills don’t get opened. We don’t have the money to pay them and it is easy to get so overwhelmed. so they sit untouched waiting for a day when it has been put off too long.
My mood has been somewhat sad and irritable over the past 7 days or so. I cycle in and out of a disconnected state where nothing much seems to matter. I don’t care. My partner talks at me and it just filters past me, as if some invisible shield was up between us. I don’t care about the truck that is in for service, or what the neighbor said she needed to do to restart the tractor. I just don’t fucking care. It is all meaningless to me right now. In this steady state of holding off the panic nothing seems to matter, except holding on. I feel so caught in this place of irritability. I want to scream and yell and kick. To make everyone see the reality that is coming. Who fucking cares about the tractor or the neighbor, it is pointless. All of it. I want to stand still and stomp like a three-year old who has been denied that candy bar. Better yet throw myself on the ground and have an all out tantrum all because the reality I am living seems so far from those around me. I don’t want to hear “it will be okay”. How do you fucking know that? Why don’t I trust them? Maybe because I have been mislead and disappointed far too many a time. There is so much riding on this and I just don’t buy their empty promises. Yet on the flip side they have kept us going. I cannot discount their words entirely. I am caught in this unsettled place. My heart and my head restless and worried. I have no words for this place. In the absence of words there is just this shaking. I wish to be anywhere but in this state.