No, I’m not generally a cheery, bouncy sort of person. But since the world hates being receptive to negativity, I avoid blogging when I am on an excessively downward spiral. So you’ve been warned… if you prefer to view the world as a sunshine-and-rainbows sort of place, don’t read any further.
I have not run in ten days. Not only that — I haven’t worked out at all, with the exception of one short (and painful) bike ride. I’d love to know how the hell I’m supposed to run a ten-mile race in a week when I’m currently lucky I can even manage to walk at all. Skipping it in an attempt to “save myself” for the “big race” (in this case, the half marathon) is almost definitely a futile effort anyway, since we all know how well that plan worked out last time. As in, it didn’t.
All of this inactivity is doing nothing for me. This stupid injury isn’t healing any faster, because my body hates me. And even though I gave it whatever it asked for over the past few months, it still saw fit to ruin one of the most-important-to-me things I’ve ever done. Because I had the audacity to actually be happy for three seconds. I mean, how dare I!! Everything I touch is destined to fail, so why the hell should this have been any different??
This isn’t me feeling sorry for myself, by the way. It’s me being absolutely furious that I fell for it. Again. And yes, I know I’m a terrible person and all, but come on, isn’t there some sort of ****ing limit to how many times I am supposed to be all kind to my body, which, by the way, does not deserve it, when I effectively spend more time sitting on my rapidly expanding behind than doing anything else?! Oh, and eating. Because I am a pig, and I will just continue to be one, even though I am not moving and so obviously don’t need to eat as much. And the whole “injuries need fuel to recover” excuse is not a good one, either, because it’s not working.
It didn’t help that I had a lovely run planned for this morning — had I actually been able to run, torrential downpours be damned. Instead, all that’s happened is that thanks to the weather, my hair looks like something that just touched down from Planet Frizz, so I feel ugly on top of everything else.
I swear, if I have to spend one more sedentary second inside my own head, I am going to have to kill someone. Most preferably myself. Or the next person who perkily tells me to cheer up, it will get better!
…And this is why I am not blogging.