Writing, Running, Being.

The finish line is a shifty Thing and what is life, but reckoning?
Ani DiFranco

Tuesday, June 29, 2010


I'm a little down. My knee isn't healing. I can't seem to get past 3 miles before it blows up. I need to go see the Healer again for some Active Release. I hope I can work that into the budget for next month. You know what really grinds my gears? The term "overuse injury." I don't overuse my body. I run, sure. But I was under the assumption running is included the Knee's job description. Or maybe I am so highly evolved that my body is meant to perform nothing more than the movements required to log into Facebook and drive a car. Maybe Jonas's kids will be born without functional knees. Just pre-bent legs (for aesthetic purposes) and chairs glued to their butts.

I'm trying not to be a Negative Nancy but I'm getting really frustrated with running. Or lack thereof. I'm even going through the proper stages of grief to cope with the loss of running in my life. First denial, where I ran through knee pain, convincing myself it was nothing. Then anger. Fuck you knees, I'm not aqua jogging. I
hate aqua jogging. Do what I tell you to do, you bastards! And now I'm in stage 3. Bargaining. I've invented a running god to whom I've prayed, "I promise I'll never sign up for another race as long as I live, just please give my knees back for the sake of my sanity!"

I've been getting conflicting messages about the perceived length of life. Cathy keeps telling me that life is short. Life is short. Life is short. Life is short. You always hear that, you know? Like you'd better hurry the hell up and figure out what it is you're meant to do and who you're supposed to be. And then in the same breath they'll tell you how young you are. So which is it? I met a couple in their 80's at the bike shop. Both triathletes who outlived their spouses and found each other in their late 60's. There I was talking to a woman who is eighty about her race last weekend. One I couldn't do because my knees are shot. That was too ironic. What do I even have left? Is it wrong to aspire to run the rest of my life? How do people do that?

I woke up early to run but walked back with a lump in my throat after less than 3 miles. Though my eyes were busy containing tears of frustration, they still noticed the other runners on the trail. Jealousy is an evil bitch. She told me not to smile at them. She told me they were all assholes and that I should stick a foot out and trip them as they ran by (I didn't). I wanted to hate everyone because my knee was stiff and swollen without a valid excuse (aside from overuse). But how can I be angry when I'm on a beautiful trail in Cheyenne Canyon? And I live in Colorado. A place where people don't just live to 80, but they run there. How can I be angry this early in the morning, when the sun has barely risen and the day hasn't been given a fair chance? How can I be sure my knee will crap out the next time I try? And how can I be sure I won't get to be 80 and running someday too?

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

picking up chicks

My Jonas is an only child and will most likely remain one. Socializing him has been hard because I'm shy. I've really been making an effort to find friends for him and it's not been easy. The ones we have are great, and he's very comfortable with them, but I feel I need to expose him to more people and kids. Not just expose him to them, but allow him to develop relationships. So we go to playgrounds and storytime and pretty much any event I come across that is for kids. My mission is always to find friends, and we do find cool people to play with while we're there, but I've yet to leave with anybody's phone number.

I think I am the only mom in Colorado Springs who has only one kid over the age of two, and who is not planning to have any more children. Most of the families around here seem to have three or four kids (which seems excessive to me but more power them) and they all play happily together at the park. They don't need any outsiders like my kid does. I'm really intimidated by the moms with several children. I want to ask them out on a playdate or something but I feel like they already have everyone they need right there in their family. Why would they need to hang out with us?

Then there are the cliques. The friends that already know each other from church, school, or their subdivisions. How is a non-church goer with a younger-than-school-aged child supposed to break into that scene? I need some tips from dudes on how to pick up chicks. I've come to sympathize with guys at bars who are there to get phone numbers and dates (and laid). I want to give my number to every single one of those boozy-breathed assholes along with a great big hug that says "I know what you're going through, man." Is this really what it's like? Women are so unapproachable, especially when they're in groups. No wonder males are so strongly led by their libidos. It has to be that way because properly approaching women is pretty freaking perilous and no other force on this earth is strong enough to face the kind of degradation that is risked. Except maybe the love of one's offspring.

Last week I thought I caught a break. A woman approached me. She struck up a conversation and I found it easy to talk to her. She was funny, nice, attractive and had only one child. "This is the one," I thought. "It's now or never....don't lose her." And then her true intentions floated to the surface as she too-casually mentioned the dreaded name of the multi-level marketing cosmetic company that claims to empower women but really shoves them back into hose and heels where they are brainwashed then scammed....Mary Kay. "Ohhh...crap. She sells Mary Kay. I know where this is going...." Ya win some, ya lose some.

So I've been putting myself out there every morning. Out there at the playground, among the ever-judging faces of the moms who already have good-enough friends. Just trying to choke down bits of pride until I work up the courage to ask for some digits.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

running break

I haven't been running. I plan to start on Monday, when all of my nagging injuries will magically disappear. I've been doing a pretty good job of not going crazy. I've been working, playing guitar, crossfitting, and riding a lot! Well, a lot for me anyway. I went on a really fun mountain bike ride on Sunday with people from work. It caused a fight with my husband who had plans that I ruined, but I have to say it was damn worth it! I've been going to the new Criterium ride center on Fridays (when my husband is there working) and riding the Santa Fe Trail with Jonas in the Chariot. It's fun but man, I'm so out of shape on the bike! We stopped to play at the playground at Palmer Lake last Friday. It is quite the scenic playground!

We had a schizophrenic, crack-head neighbor ( I know, what a combination, right?!) who was finally "escorted" out of the neighborhood by the police because his girlfriend had had enough. Now there is a permanent restraining order and all the neighbors are free to come outside and socialize without their lives being threatened. It is nice to see people on their porches smiling again. That's how summer should be. There are a few things I will miss about Schizophrenic Crack-Head Jerry. The way he used to cumpulsively hose down his driveway for an hour every afternoon. The police siren noises he would make, amplified by a megaphone while my kid was napping. The narrating of the neighborhood happenings in his auctioneer voice, also amplified by said megaphone. The random threats and accusations. The way he would call the police on you if he caught you looking in his general direction. Those are things I just don't think I'll ever get with any other neighbor. Oh well.

I wish I could write about running or training for something. Some positive things about a running break: My guitar is getting daily workouts. It's amazing, the things you realize you've neglected when you can't run. My house is clean. I'm painting the living room and kitchen tomorrow. I'm very close to getting around to painting the dragon/castle mural in Jonas' room, which I drew about 6 months ago. I might not be happy, but I'm productive! Breaks can be good.