I’m an invalid. For eight weeks now, after a very calm riding accident, I’ve been exasperating my friends by continuing to walk around on a foot with torn ligaments – worn high heels, played tennis, run four miles, walked seventy blocks in flats. I’m a podiatrist’s worst nightmare. So I found out this morning.
So this morning, x-rays and MRI in hand, I told my doc that my goal was to start training for the marathon in one week, and that I’d like his permission to do so. More or less was demanding his permission – I acted like I was a New York Yankee and my pitching arm was at stake for my multi-million dollar a year salary to be continued. He sighed, and said “Oh, you’re going to be a challenge.”
Yes. Yes, I am. I’m stir-crazy from sitting at a desk all day in a high-stress environment that is usually only alleviated by running it out. Now I just drink pinot grigio.
For two months, I’ve sat, in a swirly chair in a cubicle, waiting for this summer to begin. And while waiting, it’s passing me by. San Francisco is feeling more far way from me than ever – hiring freezes are the only cold thing happening in this heat. Despite that daily snail slowness, it feels like life is moving too fast. We’re now way past the Fourth of July… awaiting our next holiday weekend in September. Work has never been more difficult for me and I’m trying to figure out why – is it because I had other plans for this time of year? That I had more expectations for myself by this time, as my 33rd looms ahead? That these mundane projects are giving me gray hairs that I pluck in my fluorescent bathroom mirror? That I have pending life decisions that need to be made in the next 4 weeks?
There are times where I usually edit what I’ve written, even if it’s just for grammatical purposes. But tonight I do not care. Because I realized that I’ve been devoting so much of my creative energy to projects that are not my own – twelve hours a day to things that do not stimulate my soul – that tonight I’m just writing before I forget how. I had so many plans for how my next post was going to turn out…but there are not enough hours in the day to say “I’m going to wait and write until I can devote hours to it.” Tonight I have ten minutes. This is what ten minutes looks like. There will be no pretty picture attached, no creative headline written. This is what I can offer tonight, because I realize I have to fit my ideal life into the life I have now. It has to work together.
What I learned today is that I have to give up the life I’ve planned…to find the life that’s waiting for me. I haven’t been able to run it out in Central Park because of some important ligament that needs to not be torn to work properly. Those miles run inflame and that backhand is temporarily on sick leave. So for the past few months, and the next few as well, I need to stop throwing myself a pity party. I have to give myself permission to suck. At everything. This is me completely doing things half-ass. It’s all I have – take it or leave it.