Brittle

Some days when I run, I feel almost invincible. Strong, athletic, powerful. Other days, no matter what I do, all I feel is brittle. Like every step is painful, risks shattering the whole of me into tiny pieces on the road.

Today I was brittle. Like the ice hiding in creases in the ground, along the ditches and in the birdbaths and dog bowls. Sure, the temperature was just below freezing, but the sun was out, and there wasn't as much wind as yesterday, and I needed to get some air for sure. I thought about just going for a walk, but why walk when you can burn more calories and "work out" with a run?

A walk would have likely been more pleasant, and more conducive to a clearing of the mind, but I know I would have felt guilty for walking when I could have run. Isn't it terrible, the things the mind does? Can't take it easy, that's not the way you should do things if you want to excel.

I don't like doing this to myself, the guilt for not measuring up, or for wanting to relax and slow down, or for choosing what feels the most right at the time, even though it isn't what I "should" do. Discipline is a hard mistress sometimes, and acceptance a virtue I don't often keep about myself. But I need to, and I will take a few quiet moments now and realign my attitude and take a deep breath and move on. Some days, you do what you can do, and that's it. And that's today. I am grateful I could even get out there, and proud of myself for doing it, cold as it is.

But I am hoping it's the cold weather that makes getting off a piece of furniture an exercise in stiff unfolding of body parts, and a feeling like I need all my moving parts oiled.