Some books I've read really romanticise running. It' so natural, anyone can do it, just for up your laces and run, it takes us back to our ancestors when we ran to hunt, it makes you feel free.
Some books should tell the truth. It hurts, it's soul destroying when a sixty year old jogger cannot be caught, you feel like spewing. Or how about the momentum of running bounces your bowels around like marbles in a washing machine and makes you need to run faster cos you need a big shit but your legs aren't up to it.
A few definiions for the adjectives to describe my feelings this week.
Ashamed - embarrssed at having to tell people I'm ill again. Ugh, how many times are we going to hear this?
Unreliable- not feeling well enough to work fucks up everybody elses day and makes you untrustworthy. Ugh, could he really not come in? What's the matter with him?
Lethargic - feeling weak and with no energy. Quite happy to stay in bed. When not in bed, thinking about when I can get in bed. Ugh, are you stopping in bed again?
Wortless - I'm going to be out of action again; is there much point in me contributing in the mean time. Ugh, how shall we make plans to carry on withhout you?
Baffled- not sure if illness is a bug, symptoms or just in my head. The feeling of sickness coming and going and appearing out of nowhere on occasions doesn't help. Ugh, are you just ill or is it the cancer?
Frustrated - wanting to be positive all the time, wanting to tackle things head on, wanting to fight with every ounce of passion in me but not having the energy. Feeling positive for a period only for an overwhelming sense of fear, panic and anxiety to hit. Ugh, I thought you were doing alright?
Whoever made up the saying no news is good news in an idiot. No news, waiting for news . . . that's torture.
News means you have something to deal with, know where you stand. Waiting for news that will define your life indefinitely? That' painful and miserable.
