Withdrawal

You know that feeling you get when you lose your job or break up with your boyfriend (or in my case, your husband) and you feel like you have completely lost your identity? That is how I feel about not running. For seven weeks. I'm a junkie in need of fix. Seriously--it's wearing me down. I miss my endorphins. I miss my friends. I miss that sense of doing something bigger than myself.

For the past year, running has been my life. It was the one constant in a changing world, a schedule I had to follow even when I was sleeping on my sister's couch or wondering how on earth I would pay the rent. My running teammates have become my best friends, my therapists, my confidantes--the people I trust with my innermost thoughts, the people I can be me with. And without that constant support, the constant motion, the constant striving for more, I've been forced to slow down. I tend to keep myself busy to avoid dealing with the difficult stuff of life--well, without the business and without the endorphins, it's been a tough seven weeks. I'm sluggish, I'm cranky, I'm unmotivated--generally, not a lot of fun to be around. And I think I've avoided writing because I see those traits in myself and was reluctant to confront them.

The truth is, this is a minor setback, a blip in the radar of life, and nothing compared to what people facing real illness deal with on a daily basis. And I feel completely selfish for wallowing in what really is petty in the greater scheme of life.

And so, the Kisses for Kate bracelet is back on, the "strength" bracelet for breast cancer awareness is on, too, and I hope they will remind to get some perspective when my thoughts turn self-indulgent.