Another day, another stupid pity party

Not a great day today. I guess it's been building up, judging from recent entries.

I met the team (dear Nell has named us this) at 6:45 for what was to be a 2:20 training run (for them, not I). I was still getting squared away and told the others to go on ahead--I had to laugh when they, to a man, all said "no!" They do make every effort to make me feel a part of the team, bless their hearts. So away we went toward the Hardee's (for a pit-stop). As usual, I let them run on ahead so I wouldn't be pulled by their pace. It was interesting to note how great a gap was created in so short a time--that may have been what started the pity party rolling.

After the Hardee's stop, we took off. Just as before, it didn't take long for the gap to widen. Bless her heart, Lynne insisted, as usual, on coming back for me. This troubles me more and more because I hate for her to break her rhythm like that. When she and the others are running ahead of me they look like a pack of Kenyans (I've said this before). They're all running a good pace, talking, training, as I watch from behind.

Have I used this analogy before? I sometimes feel like I exist in two places -- opposite sides of a mirror. I'm usually pretty good about staying on the positive side, but not today. Today I was not grateful I could still run, I was angry and sad -- I am angry and sad -- that I don't run like I used to. When I see these other women running the way I used to run, the way I want to run, I jump to the other side of that mirror and look at the reality.

Lynne decided I was not the boss of her today so she ignored my command to run with the others. She stayed with me for a few minutes, but then her natural pace took her further and further ahead. The wider the gap, the harsher the reality, and the sadder I became. I saw her crest the hill, then disappear. When I got to the college track and couldn't see anyone, I was done. Tears rolled down my cheeks; the anger and sadness lodged in my throat. What dumb crybaby I am. I ran around the track and thought I was feeling a little better, if still rather pathetic, when Lynne came around the turn. We talked for a second about my knowing that part of the course and were going along when the sobs overcame me. All this stupid drama queen needs is a fucking audience and away she wails--totally ridiculous. Poor, poor Lynne.

The run changed after that. Lynne ran back for me but ended up losing the others, so we altered the plan. Coming off the canal path I experienced a bit of emotional recovery, had a good stride, and when we rounded the corner the bright sun and cool air were on my face, Rosie Ledet was playing on the iPod, and it was almost perfect (even though my foot felt funny again). I don't know how long we ran--I pretty much never wear a watch anymore--but I don't even care. It was, after all, still a run. I can still run. I'm an idiot, should be grateful. Right?

We had our customary after run refreshment, but actually had a moment of worry. When discarding the bottle, a city cop drove by. We are sure he saw what was going on, so we put all the evidence in the trunk of my car, closed the trunk, and ran over and sat in Lynne's car, hiding! The cop never came back so we resumed our activity. Since it was so cold we took our red cups to the French pastry shop. We ordered our usual scones and coffee and, while I was signing the slip the owner asked if I'd had surgery, pointed to the most atrophied part of my hand, and asked what happened. I explained to him the situation and got a dose of positive again just from that. For some reason it helps to minimize everything when I talk to people.

On a better note, Kendall and I are talking Paris. Oh, I would love to go but flights are so expensive and I still have work to do in the house and I have no money...but PARIS. Sigh...we shall see.