Thursday, May 3, 2012

like a hot knife into butter

I hurt.

I just do.

Even if it seems like I don’t, even if I’m putting on a good show for people...  I do.

I’m not cold and heartless, as has been suggested to me.  I’m practical.  But that said, I still hurt like any other human.  And I don’t think there’s a band aid big enough to cover this hurt.

It’s starting to show itself in my writing.  Which isn’t helping me one bit.

I have a deadline looming.  

So, I was going to write up a nice little piece for Miles & Minutes about my 10K PR and The Break Up.  Sort of a spin off piece of the blog post I wrote the other day.  It would touch on how much short races hurt in a completely different way when you compare them to longer distances. 

And then that’s where it went down hill.  I went on to write about how it hurts.   How the pain is different, and what came out was too graphic for Miles & Minutes.  It’s acute, like a scalpel slicing into flesh, parting skin into two identifiable pieces that can easily be stitched back together. 

See?  Not so much running related as emotionally tied.

And I keep coming back to being two women...   I am two women.

The housewife and the prostitute runner.


carrie said...

Try to think of it from a different perspective: to find balance in the force, there must be a light side and a dark side. One side must not be stronger than the other, or we end up with The Empire. The light side and the dark side must live together, not always harmonious, but living symbiotically. If all else fails, give the how to from Yoda's perspective. Do or do not, there is no try...

Shellyrm ~ just a country runner said...

I like to think (and I hope I'm right) that I am one woman with many roles. Some roles I enjoy more than others. Some roles have come and gone over time.

I like that in this comment window your orginal post doesn't show the mark out over the word prostitute...making you a housewife and prostitute runner. heehee