I am so angry lately, and I don't know why. I have a horrible case of the I don't cares, except when I do care. I get angry either way. At people, at pets, at things.
I wonder if the marathon in my mind is like vacation. You know how you can get kind of impatient in the weeks leading up to an event because mentally you're already there? You just want everything to go according to plan and you get really angry when it doesn't, when someone dares to muck up your plan.
This all starts to translate into anger at myself. I'm lazy, I'm stupid, I'm slow, I'm a bitch, I'm fat, no one wants to be my friend and I can't blame them. I saw a picture of myself today from a couple of weeks ago and rather than thinking about how happy I looked to be out having a great time with new friends, all I could think was at least I only brought one extra chin along with me that day and no wonder I can't get a date when I have this flat, fat face. Even if I lost weight, I'd still be ugly so what is the point of any of it?
I hate feeling like this.
I didn't run this morning. I don't know how my calves can be so sore and stiff when I certainly didn't exert myself in the half marathon. I'd even discussed with myself about how my legs were going to be stiff and sore in the morning so that I wouldn't want to run but that I was going to get up and go run anyway. I did get up. To set my alarm clock ahead so I could go back to bed.
I'm going to run tonight. I want to be healthy. I want to be happy. I don't want to be angry and pissy and not follow through on goals that mean so much to me. At least if I run and it hurts and it sucks, then I have a reason to be angry. Not just this amorphous monster inside of me, wanting to pummel something, anything.
Bah.
the CilleyGirl
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