Jack Torrance. Travis Bickle. Alex Frost. Annie Wilkes.
What do these characters and I have in common?
The slow descent into madness.
Mine isn’t fueled by manipulative ghosts, insomnia and violence, obsessive love or being any author’s number one fan. No, my lunacy is caused by no running! NO RUNNING! NO BOOTCAMP! NO LIFTING ANYTHING HEAVY! AGH!
See, I had this little surgery almost two weeks ago. I wish it was something glamorous like a tummy tuck (oh yeah, I’d do it if I could afford it…damn tootin’ I would) but in reality it was a blocked fallopian tube that I needed (in my doctor’s words) “roto-rootered out.” Pleasant visual, no? We’re trying to have a baby, as you well know by now, and this is hopefully going to help that plan.
So, for the greater good, or rather the sweet-little-baby-powder-scented-good, I had this surgery done. I can’t run, lift weights, do bootcamp or lift anything more than 20 pounds until next Wednesday. That’s next Wednesday as in 7 days, 8 hours and 30 minutes from now. Not that I’m counting or anything.
So. Here I stew in my own psychosis.
Who would have thought that a year ago, when I was cursing every time I squeezed myself into two sports bras and ill-fitted workout clothes that I would be longing (and I mean loooooonging) to strap on my running shoes and hit the pavement?
Mentally. Physically. Tight-Pants-and Crabby-Attitude-ly Crazy. I need to fucking run. Pardon the French. Annie Wilkes would call me a dirty-birdy and hobble me for that. Then I really wouldn’t be able to run for a while.
Anyway, those of you who see me on a regular basis, please excuse my nuttiness. And if I start talking about all work and no play makes Jenny a dull girl, well, call in the reinforcements.
In the meantime, I will walk endlessly on the treadmill, dreaming of sweating up a storm in bootcamp (my God, do I really miss doing an hour of bootcamp), and try not eat like the Titanic is going down.
I won’t boil any bunnies either. Well, unless I’m teaching rabbit in meats class.
Okay, I had a funny visual as I read this...Jen picking up everything in sight and putting it on a scale to see if it weighed less than 20 lbs. so she could lift it! Ha ha ha! Hang in there friend, you've got this. The grass looks greener over here on the running side, but soon enough you too will be playing on the astroturf.
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