In the past two years, I've managed to graduate with an MFA degree in nonfiction writing, fail to qualify for the 2012 Olympic Trials in the marathon event and injure myself so severely that I have not been able to run a single step.
I'm elated and depressed.
My life is a contradiction.
And yet, I've joined a swim team and learned to swim. I can do the butterfly, even, for 50 meters, which is something for a person who never thought they could.
I've also joined a cycling club; and I've seen my cycling fitness improve. Two weeks ago I rode an unsupported century, leading most of the way, feeling fit and light in my pedals.
However, I miss those runs.
So I decided to start a new blog. Mostly because I'm lonely and depressed. No one will ever read this thing, I'm sure, but maybe if I can write to myself I'll get through the sadness I feel every day I can't run and the solitude of these days when I wake to ride/swim before the dawn and work an office job where nothing I do truly matters.
I miss my family; I miss my boyfriend of five years who lives 200 miles away.
Training-- and the hope that I can heal and one day complete an Ironman distance triathlon-- is really the only hope I have that makes me wake up each morning to do it all again.
So, that's me. Nothing special.
Yet.
See, that's the funny thing about sports and why I have chosen to pursue this path in lieu of many others. You never know what your body will give you on any given day. There is only the daily practice of the athletic life and the faith in yourself that you're more than you thought you were.
So for now, for me, that has to be enough. I pray it will be.
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