Heart.

The last 48 hours have been this bizarre mix of people coming in and out of my life, each dealing with their own personal dramas.  I'm left feeling like the rocky edge of the harbor with the waves crashing on top of me and then leaving me covered in film from ebb and flow.  I don't know why they're considering me as a source of advice, because my life seems to be dark, dark, dark; it's a very black spring.  However, on this morning's 12 miler I was reminded that running is the one thing in my life that has remained consistent and has never let me down.  Even though I was fighting through gale-force winds, fighting to stay afoot, fighting the early morning rain before the rest of the city was awake, I couldn't help but think how much running has given me and how it continues to be my rock, despite this midnight-like period.

I can't even articulate.

I've become so cynical and don't trust anything anymore.  People come and go.  People are just so full of disappointment to me lately and even the most reliable of friends lately seem to be inwardly turning to manage their own battles.  Men fail and fail again and then I turn around and they fail some more.  Work is stressful but has it's glittering moments before swallowing me whole again and hungrily licking its lips.  Bills arrive and get paid.  Money goes up and down.  Plans are built and crumble.  Schedules change.  I'm alone.  I fall asleep alone and eat alone and am forced by life lately to enjoy those small, happy, hopeful moments - alone.  For some reason though, running just always seems to deliver for me, even if I try to fight it, even when I doubt it.  It's reliable.  I can pick up and go wherever I want, whenever I want, and it always makes me feel happy, whole, reset, good; it gives me the quiet inner peace that I desperately seek in the dark noise that seems to just be everywhere lately.  I don't have to treat it gently.  I don't have to walk on eggshells.  As aggressive as I can get with it, it always leaves me feeling right again. 

Someone asked me over dinner this past weekend why I keep doing these marathons.  I paused, looked him in the eye and said it's because I run with my heart.  It's because my life is so uncertain and lately - filled with so much blackness and self doubt, and when running a marathon, there's a point in each race, somewhere around mile 17 or 18 where the world opens up and suddenly the outside world matches the inside of my heart.  Suddenly there is sunshine everywhere and this powerful moment where I feel like I can do anything, I'm capable of everything, and I have such stable, solid, self-acceptance and confidence, before the petals fold back up in the darkness after the finish line and I'm swallowed whole again and spiral back into the abyss.  It's that one moment, so fleeting and magic that keeps me coming back for more. 

Then of course, there was no response to that, because words failed.