Things haven't been easy this week, I'll be honest. I think Tuesday was one of my worst days on record and the cherry on top was finding out I didn't get into grad school. Fail! (My GPA from college was less than stellar, apparently, and they only took 45 out of 400 applicants.) The funny thing was that at a certain point in the afternoon, I purposely avoided the mailbox because the day had been just that spectacularly sucky that I was sure if I checked the mailbox, it would most certainly contain a rejection letter. Unfortunately, they e-mailed it to me right as I was leaving work instead.
But the strange thing is? I'm okay. I've been feeling oddly self-possessed lately and part of me wonders if this is how People Who Have Their Shit Together feel all the time. Not that I have my shit together by any means, but I'm doing better than ever before. I know everyone is getting sick of hearing about it (even Joel, who now works full-time as a copywriter for Nike), but I can only thank the running. I started off my Super Bad Tuesday with a run and then when shit hit the fan, I went to the gym to lift weights during my only free 20 minutes of the day. Today I ran the waterfront and the Hawthorne Bridge in the rain. I'm even leaving to go to the gym as soon as I publish this post because I need to use the treadmill to accurately time my miles.
I think it's actually the reason I haven't been writing as much. I no longer write for my mental health. It used to be that if I had a free hour, I'd sit down and write it out, but I can't sit much anymore. I'd rather be going. The stupid thing is that I still HATE running. I spend most runs locked inside my head with dueling voices screaming at me to quit and/or keep going. It hurts. It's awful. I hate it. But I can't stop.
And with that, I promise to stop talking about running. I'll just have to talk about my dog instead.