I am sitting here. Yet again. With ice on my ankle. No. Not because I love to torture myself with freezing my ankle continuously. I have no idea what I did to my ankle. I don't even have a great juicy story to describe or justify why I'm in this stupid boot and stationary with ice.
Can you tell I'm frustrated? Can you tell I'm fed up? Can you tell the novelty of wearing this damn boot has worn off?
I miss running. I miss it desperately. I miss walking up the stairs to the 9th floor at work. I miss being able to run down the hall to grab something from the kitchen. I miss walking outside for any distance.
I'm struggling at the moment. I know there are many who have life far far worse than I . But. Yet. This is my reality at the moment. I rely so heavily on running as my outlet for stress relief and for an avenue to better health. Now I'm stuck. Damn near literally. What can I do? What should I do? I can't bike or walk on a treadmill or do yoga or really anything that requires legs and feet. Not until I know what is wrong with my ankle. I have an MRI on Tuesday. But that feels like eons away. I swam laps once. And while it's a feasible solution since I have something that prevents me from kicking, it's not as freeing and as dare I say beautiful as running. Maybe that is what I miss the most. The freedom. The push. The drive. The discipline. The fluid movements of placing a foot in front of you to push off and put the next one down. The rhythm.
What lies beneath.
I was looking at my ankle last night fascinated. Fascinated by the layer of skin on my body. The layer of skin that keeps all my guts and organs inside of me. The layer of skin that hides the problems, the issues, the diseases, the healing that a part of my body is undergoing. Why? Why is it that we can't see what is beneath our skin easily? Would we worry more? Would we worry less? Would we no longer be human? Does skin protect us from our own sense of self? Obviously, I don't have an answer.
I'm frustrated and bored and tired and edgy and grumpy. Some days it takes every single grain of my will to not scream at a complete stranger. I have begun to ask myself what am I missing? What should I be doing in this time instead? I don't rightly know. Well okay, that's not really true. I know I can read and write and dream and BE more. But honestly some days I don't have the energy to be anything other than a slug. Is that bad? Is that how I cope?
I don't know what is wrong with my ankle. I fear that the MRI will tell me nothing. I'm allowed to fear, right? As long as it doesn't consume me. I can't say I'm flawless - I do let fear consume me. It's just who I am. I try and BE and not worry. But it is damn hard and not intuitive. I know that everything happens for a reason. And some can find grace in transition. I, unfortunately cannot. It's the way I'm wired. It's the way life has come and gone at me, for me, with me.
I don't know if writing this has helped at all. Maybe. I did find some honesty in my words. Some discoveries. Like the fact that I enjoy the freedom that running affords me. That I depend on running for stress relief.
What lies beneath... I should learn this week. What lies within... I'm finding out each day.