Putting it Down on the Page

 

I just did  not feel up to trying to put down the next segment of my recent journey onto the page yesterday.  I wish I had tried, for then it would be over, and I wouldn't feel the need to get this onerous task done.  But, once I do write this, it will be easier henceforth:

And, before I begin, please do know that what I will write may be perceived as rather foolish, or dull-witted, or naive, or even just a waste of time.  I get that.  If there is one thing I have always been cognizant of is that my ideas and opinions do not always match or jive with the thoughts of others.  And, that is also ok.  And, even if you feel like giving me a jibe (or gibe) for what I express... that too is fine.  I can take the criticism, and probably even will attempt to learn something from it.  

 So, it was two days after learning of my friend's severe stroke, and several days after the passing of the son of a family friend I had written about.  I had forced myself out of bed a 4:45am so I could get on the trail to begin my run.  I was in a rather sour mood, having had restless sleep, and also from all the feelings and emotions I had been working through from the events of the last several days.  The idea of a run was NOT exciting to me in the least.  But, I was already lagging a bit in the week's ~53-55 mile (~85-88 km) goal.  And, I was feeling awfully damn tired of the same trail, day after day.  So, I got out the door and walked to my usual start point, and decided I would run somewhere else..... not the usual, safe, smooth trail I run so often.  And, I had the goal in my mind that I would need to run at least 10 miles (~16km) to help me get back on track.  So, off I went.

As is my routine, as I ran, I began to work through praying the rosary while I ran.  The run was actually helping me to shed a bit of the top layer of the stress and anxiety I had been feeling, and praying the rosary was also helping me quell some of my roiling emotions.  By about mile 7 (~11km) I really was focusing internally on my thoughts and feelings, and I was running in an area of town that was somewhere I had never ran before.  It felt a bit freeing and I could even sense a bit of an improvement in my emotional energy.  

But, as hit somewhere around 7.5 miles (~12km), I was being an utter idiot, and was not focused or paying attention... and I KNOW I need to pay attention... I was just being a damn imbecile.   So.... because of my lazy mental focus and own sheer stupidity, I ended up catching the front toe region of my sneaker on a raised edge of sidewalk that was cracked and elevated due to some tree roots that had expanded underneath the sidewalk.

My body lurched forward uncontrollably and as I fell, I started to instinctively try to break my fall with my hands, but also knowing this could lead to broken bones, I pulled back some on my arms as well, so they were not straight.  I tumbled hard onto the coarse concrete, and then tumbled over the top of myself from the momentum of the initial strike on the sidewalk and came to a dead stop onto my rib cage on my left side.  I then rolled myself over onto my back, into the grass and laid out there, splayed like a used washrag while I tried to assess the damage.

The tally was I had two badly scraped up knees, a badly scraped elbow, a large, raw abrasion on my left shoulder, and a cut on my cheek.  The knees, elbow, and cheek were oozing out blood.  I had a lot of aches and pains as well from various locations where I had contacted the concrete but had not damaged the skin. 

But, the blood leaving my body was no where near as severe as the blood I emotionally felt in my mind and the blood I could emotionally see in my eyes.  I became livid, and angry beyond any measure I could comprehend.  I eased my aching body upright.  I took a few tentative steps.... and then I took off running the rest of the way home.  BUT, I was was SO angry, SO hurt, SO boiling over in rage.... I started to curse God, and cursed and raged at God for all my hurts and all the hurts of my friends and of all this sh*t I have been going through over the last few years from the "wretched two" at work.  I bellowed out every vile epithet I could imagine.  I cussed, and cursed, and raged and condemned, and  said curse words I think I have never uttered before.  I told God that if this is how it was going to be, that he damn well should end it now, because the way things were was just too much.  I continued to curse, condemn and rage against God all the way home for the remainder of the miles.  

By the time I reached the driveway, blood had ran down from my knees into my socks and even some to my shoes.  Similar trails of blood flowed from my cheek and my elbow.  I walked into the backyard and peeled off my shoes and socks and using the garden hose, I washed the excess blood from my legs and elbow and face so that I could go into the house and not leave a blood trail.  I then walked upstairs to the bathroom, and took a shower (painful on the wounds, especially the very raw shoulder abbrasion, but it was extremely necessary), and then proceeded to bandage myself up.  I laid down on the bed, and continued to think and express the most vile, most derogatory, and the most  angry words I could muster to and about God and about life. I had never felt such intense hatred and anger.  And I continued this cursing until I fell asleep about a half an hour later.

That's it for today.  More next time.