After I posted that entry yesterday, I was brought to tears by a dooce entry. Again, I swear this woman is living my life. Please, read what she says, because she literally took the words out of my brain and phrased them perfectly. Well, minus the whole miscarriage bit. When I see people running, I get angry. When I get on Facebook and see running posts by others, I get jealous and bitter. When I see my running shoes, I feel nothing but rage. Then I get a medical bill for $400, but have nothing to show for it. It's awful feeling this way. And I feel even worse for getting so wrapped up in these emotions. People are starving to death. People have terminal illnesses. People have struggles I cant even fathom. And here I am, bitching and moaning that I cant run 26.2 miles. How selfish is that?!
I know I will be ok. And I know there will be other races. But this race holds so much meaning to me. It was the run that, 1 year ago, changed my life. It saved me from my path to destruction. I was partying too much, I was seeking comfort in the wrong places, I was depressed, and I was on a road to nowhere. I had no motivation, no care, and no drive. Then 1 day, everything changed. I never thought running would be the thing that saved me. I always thought it would be some divine intervention, some existential moment, some deep meditation during yoga, something big and earth shattering. But no. It was putting on my shoes and setting out on a solo journey that would ultimately change my life. I hated running. Now, I cant imagine life without it. And I cant imagine not running this marathon. And it hurts.
So there, the truth. I feel I owe it to you, my faithful readers. I am going to do my best to stick with the plan I laid (layed? lie? I hate that word.) out and be positive. But I also want to tell you that I am human, and I am allowed to be pissed off and miserable for a while.
Once again, lets go back to where this whole journey started:
"It's never too late to start from scratch again."
