Laced.

I think what happened exactly was that I got so frustrated with recovery, then being able to run again, then falling into a terrible pattern of forward healing progress, then several movements backwards towards the end of 2013.  I tried being patient.  I tried being kind to myself.  I tried cross-training and swimming and changing my diet and addressing bad habits but none of it really helped; a crowded room while I screamed in my inner silence alone.  Onyx clouds and ink rain and smashed glass.

I think I finally gave up on 2013 around November and just let the rest vanish into the gale.  It was liberating to take a break from being connected.  The ironic part was that being disconnected helped me to reconnect with myself and others, reconnect with my yearnings and wants and needs and goals.  I made some harsh realizations, and in my lowest point, started moving back upwards but rebuilding from the utter mess this time, but it will take time.  Time, time, time.  Messy time.  Too short on time, and too much time; the pendulum swung to its extremities barely pausing in between.  I ran when I felt good.  I didn't run when my foot hurt or my insides twisted in pain from the poison.  I didn't feel guilty when I had a lazy night at home.  I didn't feel guilty when I spent the entire month of December traveling the world; five countries in the span of three weeks, but a total of about five weeks away from home. 

Home. 

It's our supposed place, our small root laden Terra firma that from no matter how far we stray or wander, is there for us at the end of the day.  Home is stone, but can be constantly shifting like water and changing as quickly as wind.  Home is constant when life is running amiss. 

In a sense, running is home.  I feel that the end of 2013 caused me to truly stray and flee, but there it was patiently waiting, hoping, hoping, hoping that I would not choose to redefine its locality or spirituality.  I didn't.

Recently running has returned and am crossing my fingers that it will be here to stay, a hopeful but nervous lover.  I have so many things to train for this year and am looking forward to finding that space again where my heart and insides match my outsides and the universe opens and everything is right.  I think it will slowly.  The other night it peeked at me from behind the curtain of a longer run; a glorious pink sunset over a boat-less glass harbor, the city shining canvas splattered light.  I breathed deeply, could taste whispers of spring and wiped tears from my face as I ran towards it.  Running WAS and I was running home.  The small slivers didn't seem so small anymore.   

Beautiful, dark, strange, gorgeous thinking.  Lunatic, happy, crazy thing; still untamed and wild.  With hope; home.