I need to break this funk I’ve settled into. Forgetting that the world is slipping into a crap volcano is tough to do though.
I slide between depression about current events, and enthusiasm for the future even less now. There’s not much to look forward to anymore. I keep asking myself, “What if they cancel my race?”, But convincing my anxiety that it’s overthinking things has become a full-time job.
Like a lot of other people, I’m worried about my job. If this pandemic keeps going, will I even have one? I hope so.
My kids are going stir-crazy. My wife is getting cabin fever. And there’s almost no time to contemplate what we’ll do if one of us in the house catches the stupid virus wrecking our world right now. Even the thought makes me want to take a nap on a railroad track somewhere.
We’ve been helping a lady cut trees in her yard from the recent tornado damage; that has helped distract me a little. It also counts as an extra strength workout.
I would like to imagine this chapter is coming to a close, but I highly doubt we’ve even reached halfway in the unfolding saga. I’m not sure of what my plan will be if they cancel my race, but for now, I’m just going to keep running and hoping this tsunami of emotions washes over in a little while.
My Escape Plan
When you live in the hills, every mile either gets easier or harder. And if you shuffle far enough, they only become more difficult. And when every forward stride is entirely painful, after you step past impossible, that’s when all other issues fade ; in that moment it’s simply you and the road. Each mile after tells our spirit to ignore what was and, instead, survive what is.
I am going to make it through this year, if it kills me.