Races: Color in Motion
But seriously, this has been a tough month in general.
The week before Christmas always tends to be the worst of the season for me. The novelty of the holidays has worn away. Deadlines to mail things, buy things, make things, bake things, attend things loom large. The Child has another series of inevitable breakdowns that result in calls with teachers and strategy-developing. I long for simplicity but can't seem to break the straitjacket of society. Simply saying no is a difficult discipline. The low-level background noise of missing my mom also becomes a little louder at the time. I know it was probably all a facade, but she just seemed to do Christmas well and remember the little things that I just can't seem to master.
So, needless to say, my Blerch and my Black Dog have been double-teaming me. Not that this about the weight, but my mental state and the number on the scale (which I have been actively avoiding) are inversely proportional.
But there's that Half staring me in the face, so I do the running at least. Even though there's no time limit, I feel horribly undertrained. My rational mind can look at the distances I've covered and know that it will be just fine, and I know I will finish (probably in a little over 3 hours); I'm just not sure about the rest of me.
I'm kind of okay with letting this month just go away.
