The core of my right foot is sore. Too much for six miles, I don't know. When I'm in the moment I always think, if I did one, I can do two. If I do two, I can do six. There are always things in my ears to goad me on.
I was ravenous this morning. It threw off the rest of my day. Even up to the part when I kept insisting 'I really am a nice person!' even though we both knew that, eh, some days I'm not. I was shooting. And we both know that today I was actually quite selfish. The stacks of books, I took it personally. And the empty wallet. And the hard, unforgiving surfaces I kept careening off of.
I can feel so untethered sometimes--I try to hide it, keep it off of my face, but I don't know. I think I'm much more transparent than I imagine. I was lucky tonight to have had an anchor reach out and grab onto me to keep me from drifting much further to the side. Isn't this so opposite, and so wonderful, when the anchor chases the boat?
(Whenever I use the word 'lucky' I am reminded of the way I felt last Thanksgiving, and how I learned to substitute in the word 'blessed,' and why that feeling faded by Christmas.)
(And then I think of miscarriages, of broken hearts, of that dream that just drifted away into the wind like smoke. Damnit.)
On my way home there's a stop sign I always ignore, but tonight it brought me to a full stop.
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