Our intrepid runner Kim hits a low point. I bet you she’d love some comments at the end of the article to help cheer her up! -Chris
I’m angry; a deep, seething anger.
It’s not a reaction to one, isolated experience; rather, it’s a culmination of ingredients that has cooked up this dark, brooding stew.
It’s not a nice sensation.
Not wanting to fall too far behind in our program, and not wanting to miss an entire week of running, we had decided to “double-up” our run before Wanda went on vacation. We ran Sunday, then again on Monday. We were feeling pretty good about ourselves — and then it happened. About halfway through I pulled a hamstring (I’ll be honest, I think it was a strain teetering on a pull, but it still hurt like hell). On the positive, I managed to finish the run; on the negative (as is the theme of this particular blog), I was in pain for most of the week.
Not to be overshadowed, my shins decided that this particular week was perfect timing to throw a tantrum. The pain that began to throb in both shins was enough to make me wonder if I was going to be able to complete this program or if I was once again going to fail.
Now that the ingredients are coming together – we have a schedule thrown off, painful bodily injuries, hesitation, negativity and doubt – it’s time for the final touches. Throw intense family turmoil and abnormally high work related stressors into the pot, bring to an unhealthy boil and have it stirred maniacally by the hormonally infused witch known as pre-menstrual syndrome to create this rancid tasting stew called “bitch’n’brood”. Oh and let’s not forget the wolves!
Damned elusive wolves!
Husband reminds me that this [amazon_link id=”B000NZW3KC” target=”_blank” container=”” container_class=”” ]elusive pack of wolves[/amazon_link] is always out to get me. Much like the Sesame Street character Snuffleupagus who can only be seen by children, this wolf pack can only be seen by my husband. It annoys me that I’m not capable of seeing these beasts prior to Husband pointing them out to me. This annoyance poses a very important question: Am I annoyed at him because he points it out to me or am I annoyed at myself for succumbing to my whiny, self-pitying side?
Now, I’m astute enough to recognize that the threat of wolves is my beloved husband’s sardonic way of telling me that I’m complaining, but you’d think after being together for seventeen years he’d come up with something a little more creative. I mean, I’ve at least put forth the effort to change-up or increase my list of complaints over the years!
In the end, the anger did diminish and I inevitably swallowed my stew…er…I mean…pride. The program will pick up right where it left off and the thrown off schedule actually allowed the injuries to heal. And, even though Husband believes that PMS is an imaginary infliction created by women as an excuse to be bitchy (drop me a line and I’ll give you his contact information so you can let him know exactly how you feel about his “theory”), he and I have both survived another month!!
And Wanda and I will continue on to another exciting week of running…
[Ed: Yeah, that’s a blatant link to the Three Wolves and Moon shirt. I never get tired of reading the comments on that one…]