I tried

I'm broken.

I can't do more.
I'm broken.

I can't be an ally.
I'm broken.

I can't speak up, speak out, speak.
I'm broken.

I can't go out, I just go on.
I'm broken.

I won't try again.  It broke.

Daily ritual

Shut up and keep your head down.

Stop trying and just do the minimum because that's all you'll ever be allowed to do.  

And sometimes not even that that. 

Stop caring.  Stop talking.  Stop trying. 

Deep breath. Let it go.  

Bury yourself in Hamilton and Bowie and BB-8's playlist and do the tasks and nothing more.

No suggestions.  No improvements.  No ideas.

Get it done and go.  

Take a walk.  You can make it.  Take another walk.  Back to the headphones. 

Go home and do your good work there, 

find your reasons there, 

find things to be proud of there, 

find your peace there. 

Just stop. 

And they wonder why a costume or an adventure or a run becomes such a big deal, 

such an obsession. 

It's all you have. It's all there is. 

So stop.

Failure, one hobby at a time.

Everything I do seems to be turning to fail these days.  In January, there was an Incident (that I don't care to detail) that made me feel like a fail at running.  And a cheat.  And basically hate all things.

Today, I canceled my contract with the Super Trainers.  I realized that I dreaded going so much I was making myself ill.  The ST focus on young, fit, strong, elite athletes, not fat middle-aged broken people like me.  And while that wasn't as much of a problem when I was there with only a few people, lately it has been PACKED (with more people than the contract states actually) and almost all of them are super hero level athletes.  My back-up plan was to go to their other less crowded location. But for reasons beyond their control, I am not allowed to go to that location now, that location is only for young people.

So all that added up into me feeling completely out of place and like I didn't belong there.  Plus, the crowds turned it into almost a regular gym--I originally went to this place because I thought it would never be crowded, because I can't do that with my mental issues.

Additionally, while the coaches were always friendly and available for questions, I felt largely ignored in favor of the young folks, who got more direction and more attention.  I mean, I know my exercises are lame and I probably couldn't hurt myself doing them if I tried, but I rarely got any correction and I can't have been doing everything perfectly.

And because I am broken (bad elbows, bad knees, bad feet), my workouts always felt kinda lame. I am sure there was a reason for everything I was doing, but I never knew what the reasons were and the coaches didn't have time to explain their thinking for everything in my program.  So I just felt stupid and like I wasn't making any progress.

I am not sure how/if I will do any strength training anymore now.  I know I need it, but I have so many physical issues that I don't think I can do an off-the-shelf program without hurting myself.  And I don't know how to modify.  And can't afford one-on-one sessions with anyone who has the specialized knowledge for remedial training for broken people.

So another mark on the fail board.  It's getting pretty crowded too.

A stick is all I have

There are those in life that hand you a stick, and there are those that just stand there and watch you flounder.  Or even more, those that disapprove of the sticks you try to make yourself.

Take away my sticks and I lay in the quicksand, waiting to be swallowed.

Being Bad at Running Makes Me a Winner

These days, I am a runner, not a dancer.

And if you get down to it, I am not really a runner.  I am a run/walker who does that for ridiculously long distances and times.  But for simplicity sake, let's just call me a runner.

I miss dancing.  I love dancing.  I feel dancing in my guts and the desire to dance is present with me whenever I hear music.  Even music I don't particularly like, still makes me think of how I could move my body to it.  

I do not love running.  I don't even really like running.  But I can run without judging myself (too much).  I have zero talent for running.  No amount of work and time spent training will ever make me an elite runner. With running, I can let go of the relentless and unreasonable perfectionism I judge myself by, and just go.  I will never be a great runner, so it is ok for me to be a bad runner.

Running half marathons and marathons requires work.  It requires training.  It requires preparation and weeks of dedication and a plan.  (And, if you are me, it requires a calendar where you can put sparkle stickers up to see your progression and training success.  And costumes.  But that is a whole other blog post.)  It isn't something that anyone off the street can just get up and do on a whim (or at least, not without wrecking themselves).  

But, even as a fat girl, even as a non-athlete, even as a bad runner, if I stick to the plan and work hard, I can finish a race. 

With running, finishing is winning.  Winning in a way I never allowed myself with dancing, because I couldn't (and can't) let go of the idea that I should be a good dancer.

With running, I allow myself to be proud.  Proud of my accomplishment, proud of all the work I did, proud of finishing.  In a way that I don't have in any other area of my life, running makes me feel good about myself.

There is a reason I cry during every race I do.  But for once, it isn't depression.