I found mine and its alias is love.
Years I had a wall up, how could I have ever be so dumb to let it come down?
Why does this hurt more than any training, race or injury I've ever experienced?
How could I be so f***ing stupid?
The boy who cries wolf ends up being eaten by the wolves....so those that ignored the real cry and no longer have him around are forced to suffer? - because of innocent fibs? How does this make sense?
You used to take my breath away and it was the most giddy, euphoric, and amazing feeling.
Now you take my breath away by stealing my oxygen with your fabrications, freezing my lungs and burning my soul.
I am not a doll that can be played with and put back on the shelf, I am a human that has craptastic womanly emotions.
If it takes more muscles to frown than to smile, why can I not curl my lips?
Will my eyes ever de-puff? Will I ever sleep again? Will this ache in my chest ever go away?
My goal was to run for 2 hours easy, that wasn't exactly what I did.
6.15 miles - 46:30/7:35 avg
Let me start out by saying - I should not be running. My body REALLY needs a recovery day but doing so puts my sanity at risk, which I am only currently holding onto by a thread. We pick the lesser evil right?
I started out running hard...I continued to run hard....I ended running hard.
I ran out of anger and pain. Anger directed at myself for allowing another being to hurt me. 4 miles in I sprinted up a hill to a red light, this is probably where my HR maxed as I got dizzy and almost fell over as I learned up against the crosswalk signal. At I stood there wheezing/panting, waiting for the light to turn in my favor...it hit me. The spectacular meltdown! My hard breathing turned to crying and there I stood at the corner of the intersection balling my eyes out and hyperventilating - where was my inhaler when I needed it? Then this little old man waiting for the bus walks up to me with a tissue. He asks why I am so sad. I can't spit out complete sentences. I still can't control myself or breath right. So he says whatever it is it shall pass and make me stronger. He points at the sun peaking through the clouds and said that someone is watching over me. I try to smile but can't, I thank him and continue along my run. Now I run fast and hard because I feel like an ass for crying in public. "There's no crying in baseball!" :/ you know what I mean.
5 miles in and my heel is starting to hurt. I am running too hard and I am taxing my achillies and flaring my slightly annoyed planter. My one moment of intelligence of the day is listening to my body...and calling it quits at 6.15 miles. I ran hard and got a good portion of pain out. Mission accomplished.
Now - who wants to ride a mechanical bull with me on Friday while drinking Four Lokos?