The past few weeks have left my mind confused, swimming in too many possibilities and too few actual choices. I’ve been trying to pull different threads of reason and purpose and hope out of the mess and to figure out how they fit and tie our life together. Which threads do we follow? Where do we want to end up? And why? Why, why, why?
Scrambled brains are often accompanied by a heavy heart, I’ve noticed, and this is no exception. They go together almost too well. Unfortunately, they are also a recipe for exhaustion. I sleep heavily, and Little Miss has been kind enough to sleep through the night for the past week and a half, but I wake up sluggish, sighing, slow. Another day to wade and wait through. Even the weekends, usually an oasis from the weekly grind, have been burdened by the knowledge that the new week will be just the same as the old one.
Yesterday morning, I decided I needed a healing run. So I went for it. A healing run is different from other runs because even though I am pushing myself, I’m not concerned about time or pace. I notice other people but I don’t race them. I think more about how good it feels to be out in the sunshine, under the trees, feeling the breeze. I take note of the way my legs and breath and heart are burning off negative energy. I am grateful to be out there, grateful to have a way to run away, if only briefly, from the threads that have me tied in knots.
And it worked. I came home feeling light, energized, free – ready to push through all the tiny tasks that had been piling up in my knotted stupor. I got all the way to task #2 before the threads crept back in. More decisions I didn’t want to be making, more threads I wished I could cut and throw away.
But it was nice to be healed, to be free, if only for an hour.