Today should have been a relatively happy day for me. I finished week five of the C25K program, which boils down to about two miles of running, with no walking breaks. I did it, I did it with Mia in the jogging stroller, and I did it without stopping.
It has come to my attention, and not in an easy way, that I have been partaking in that old pastime called "wallowing." It's ain't pretty, and it ain't good. There's a certain indelicateness about wallowing; it has implications that suggest unkemptness and self-indulgence. I promise that I have been bathing, brushing my teeth and combing my hair. Really.
It has come to my attention, however, that I have been spending my time waiting for something or other, and figuratively emotionally crouching, as though waiting for the blow to land. This is, more or less, stupid. This is not really living.
Despite all my running success, I feel full and slow, unable to really deal with certain issues that need to be addressed. Sorry for being vague; public forum and all. Tomorrow, I am going to take a few hours for myself, away from the kids and the husband and the house full of chores to be done, and I am going to get over it and move on.
