Spoiler alert: it’s not this:
More like this lately:
Note the tether. Things have not deteriorated too much.
I am so tired of the pain in my foot, I want to explode. Don’t click to the next email, please. I need you. Hear me out. You’ve seen this quote:
“Dance like nobody’s watching; love like you’ve never been hurt.
Sing like nobody’s listening; live like it’s heaven on earth.” — Mark Twain
I might add: Write like nobody’s reading. Which could be true. In case I have your attention (Beth, Maureen, Megan, Kathleen, Amy, perhaps – Larry, and Maureen thank you!) please be patient. I’ll be brief with the crap.
I am experiencing a few existential issues at the moment and I think all that chatter is manifesting itself in my fartin’ foot. Surely you’ve heard about my (perhaps) dumbass move to run 15 of 26.2 mile in sharp pain on Feb. 2. The good news is (I think) I did finish. Proof:
Besides the medal, my goody bag included a heel from hell. I know I can be a bit dramatic but dear God, each and every stop of those fartin’ 15 hurt like a beeyatch. I have not run a step in one month and one day but who’s counting? I saw a sports medicine doctor who took a first course diagnosis of plantar fasciitis, which I knew. I love this guy and I want to believe it is nothing more. But, though my logic is a bit illogical (I did not see the PT as he suggested, figured I could ice and stretch to beat band and I didn’t prioritize my own health, which is illogical) I feel the need for validation that PF it is. I hope so. And I will, I promise, go see Keith who is my PT and doesn’t know it yet. BUT – this crap has gotten worse. I can hardly put any weight on it without soreness that makes me dread the long as hell walk to the commode. Every. Single. Time. No matter time of day. Still PF? I hope so.
To many pain is a state of mind. My yogi self believes our entire existence is such. But right now I am unable to disconnect from this omnipresent sensation lurking in my heel. Here’s my thinking of late:
- Because 2 out my 3 full marathons have kicked my ass, I suck.
(Because I have some pride I must mention I also have 9 half marathons under my belt. Sue me).
- I am not a runner.
- I am a fool and a fraud and I am bull headed for not opening up to the message from The Universe: STOP RUNNING
- I have opportunity to improve my training and nutrition.
- My ego is being softened – whittled to nothing – and perhaps I need it.
- I have grit and mettle like I never knew. Preparing me for even bigger things.
Stepping back from my ledge:
Here’s what I have learned so far from this:
- I love to swim and have a clean and strong stroke (TWSS – sorry, couldn’t resist.)
- My yoga is always there. Always.
- The people I live with are super patient with the skush skush of my limp – and my whining.
That includes them:
And him. Not her (she’s a mess):
For a number of reasons I spiraled into a state that has rendered me a bit frozen. Immobile. The D-word, depressed. I miss people. I feel incompetent. I am blessed beyond belief but biologically can’t feel it. I considered medication for this feeling, a lethargic existence. But, I am holding out. Here is my pill to pull out of my funk:
67 pills pages in and I am pulling out. I can do this.
Nothing a little of this:
Yogaville, here I come.
How do you get off your ledge?