I resent how November always has me looking back. It’s an endless loop, and it wears me out. I suppose in December I will blog about tomorrow, once I’ve gotten my strength back.
I’m thinking about wine and roses, about playing hookey and working endless hours. I’m thinking about special dinners, and last suppers. Oh how I hate the holidays, yet I’ve never been so desperately grateful to have my mom, dad and nana to share a turkey with.
The running runs through it all, we could say. I’m getting out there five days a week. Mostly my workouts suck, I’m keeping it up solely on the off chance that I might have a great run, and for the occassions when I have company. I was at the Poconos house this weekend, and I made it out to Tobyhanna State Park to run with BG this time–the last time I was on the way to meet him I flipped my car. Heading out of my neighborhood by car forced me to face the past, too. In the back of my mind, I was nervous to drive that road, but I knew I had no choice–it is the only way in and out of my neighborhood. Driving in at night wasn’t so bad because I couldn’t really see anything, I just went slow and hummed. But driving out the next day–in the direction I was going when I had the car accident, in the daylight–was more difficult than I’d expected. My shoulders, neck and arms were very tense; I had a death grip on the steering wheel and I was moving at 15 miles per hour. When I recognized the place where I had lost control of the car, then spotted the rock I crashed into that launched my car, my hyperventialting turned into straight-up tears and whimpering. I was frightened. But I did it! I drove out safely all by myself, past the scene of my miraculous smash-up. I was a little angry I had to go through it by myself, but I suppose it’s time I start to get used to the “doing things alone” part. Mostly I was proud I confronted the fear, and carried on.