The first mile is sort of fun. I have the tunes I love plugged in my ears. I am outside running towards the horizon lined with the majestic Rocky Mountains and a setting sun. Somewhere in the second mile, I want to walk. Just stop, says my legs, just stop. The wind is galing at what must be 50 miles per hour, and my thighs are burning against the resistance. Yet, I keep pounding, slowed, but pounding.
I slap the foothills a high five at 75th and turn back. It is uphill, but the wind is pushing at my back. My wings flutter and my hair is in my eyes. Yes, I have hair long enough to be in my eyes. Hair. I am hitting the second mile completion mark when I find renewed energy. I am running. I am running. Just two years ago, this same three mile loop took me 90 minutes to slowly walk with my left arm pinned to my side in pain.
I am running. I am running to stay alive. Is that what I am doing? Will this do it? My tank strap is digging into a rash patch on my shoulder that is burning like tiny ant bites under the pearls of sweat. My toes may be bleeding inside my shoes. I can't tell as they went numb a mile ago. I don't care. I am running. They will be fine. Later I will slather the lavender tipped beauties in cream, and they will be all okay. Man, my scalp itches now.
The Climb by Miley Cyrus flows out of my earphones. Lyrics of my thoughts. There will always be another mountain to climb...will I get there? I am nearly home; maybe half a mile left. I have passed the school my daughter attends; the school where she has faltered and flourished. Water is pouring out of my eyes, and I can barely see the cement in front of me. I realize, I remember, that I am scared.
I am scared I may die tomorrow. I run and move and claim my life.... But, back here in the middle of my head, I am nailed to a cross and bleeding. Surely, it won't be tomorrow. But, then what tomorrow's tomorrow will be the day I leave my children to fight their nightmares in the middle of the night without their mother.
I am scared I won't get to do all that I thought I would do and never knew I wanted to do. I have never taken a trip with gal pals nor seen Venice, Italy. I want to do that. I have paintings to get out of my head and still want to write a book. And, yet I know I will never get to be in the studio audience of the Oprah Show. Bummer.
I am crying and scared I am an oak and not a willow. I sat on my mat, eyes closed, chin bowed, and hands pressed together at my heart in class on Mother's Day and swayed like a willow as Miss Yogi chanted about her new motherhood of three months and the gifts her mother gave her. The gift to not be selfish and rigid. The gift to sway like a willow and love her motherhood as unpredictable as it is. My own mother gave me this gift.
Yes, my kids will be just fine without me. But galley, I want to be selfish. I want to see what just fine looks like. I want to see them shine. So I am running to stay alive. So I am swaying like a willow. So I am scared tomorrow is tomorrow's yesterday. I am close to home now. I slow to a walk and stretch my arms above my head. My posture is awesome, thanks to yoga and learning to slide my shoulder blades down my back opening my heart to shine. I suck it back in to my heart. I swallow the fear like a ball of light. It burns a little as it extinguishes in the lump in my throat; my plum pit chi block that reminds me I am sick each time I have to swallow down my pills that are supposed to keep me running. I am home. I sit on the rocker on the porch for a minute and take off my shoes. The sun is nearly set now. I Shall Believe by Sheryl Crow finishes on my bellowing from my i-pod, and I turn it off. I set the lock and go inside to wash it all away.
Come to me now
And lay your hands over me
Even if it's a lie
Say it will be alright
And I shall believe
I'm broken in two
And I know you're on to me
That I only come home
When I'm so all alone
But I do believe
That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly
You won't give up on me
And I shall believe
And I shall believe
Open the door
And show me your face tonight
I know it's true
No one heals me like you
And you hold the key
Never again
Would I turn away form you
I'm so heavy tonight
But your love is alright
And I do believe
That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly
You won't give up on me
And I shall believe
I shall believe
And I shall believe
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