Some of you know I have some pretty heavy stuff going on. I haven't blogged about it in the interest of protecting some family privacy and dignity, but suffice it to say my brother and I are in the process of seeking living arrangements for a loved one. Our goal is to find a place that allows a fair amount of independence while also providing the care that he needs. Since I live in our hometown and my brother does not, much of this has fallen on me. I'm not complaining. It's just the way it is. My brother has been home much more than normal during this time and also has taken it upon himself to make tons of phone calls and do whatever he can from New York. I have no complaints about the situation.
The past three weeks have been a blur of work, teaching, trying to be a good wife, daughter, sister, and friend, facility visits and tours, phone calls, financial disclosure forms, applications, appointments, laundry (mine, IronHubby's, and the loved one's), and near-daily visits to our loved one in the hospital for the first nine days and in an inpatient rehab facility since then.
I'm exhausted.
During this time, I've tried my best to keep up my workouts, if for no other reason than my own sanity. On Friday, the question of the day on kickrunners.com was, "Fill in the rest of this sentence: running is..." I wrote, "Running is my therapy."
It's true. Running (and working out as a whole, but particularly running) is therapeutic. It's my time to myself, when I don't have to account to anyone, talk to anyone, or see anyone if I choose a remote route or trail. It's my time to collect my thoughts... or cease thinking altogether. And when I run hard, as I did yesterday, it's my time to just focus on and appreciate what my body can do. The only sounds are my feet hitting the ground, my breathing, and, in the trails, little critters scurrying around in the woods next to me. Without the distractions of phones, emails, work, and other responsibilities, running is my time for me.
Due to circumstances beyond my control (wonderful overnight company (I miss you already, Heather!), a stray dog that ended up at my house for the third time, and a cancelled appointment at the Y that I didn't know was cancelled until I drove TO the Y), yesterday's long run turned into a much shorter run. All I had time to do was about 4 miles. As I set out, I decided to make the most of them. Without any speedwork the past two months, I practically raced the 4 miles and made it home, panting and exhausted, in 32:21.
That run healed my spirit.
No comments:
Post a Comment