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For most runners, a pair of running shoes "wears out" somewhere between 300 and 500 miles.

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How funky is your life?

June 13, 2006

“Hi, good to have you here.”

That’s what I said to the new guy at work. What I felt like saying is “hi, I’m a major bitch, I’m grouchy and everyone is leaving me alone today. Take note.”

Because lately, I’m just in a funk.

I haven’t been able to run in eight, yes eight, looooong days and it’s starting to take it’s toll. The injury from this little comedy of errors is still haunting me. Along with not being able to run (or bike, or elliptical, for that matter), I’m in almost constant pain. I swear, I don’t know how sufferers of chronic pain live. My ankle pain is connected to my knee pain. My knee pain is connected to my lower back pain. My lower back pain is connected to my shut up or I’ll smack your stupid ass. Pain.

I’ve been to the doctor. And the massage therapist. And the chiropractor. While they all offered some kind of temporary comfort, none of them offered a good solution. So, I’m stuck fighting the battle with time. Rest time in June sucks, really bad.

To add insult to injury, literally, I’m not eating normally. In an effort to not become a larger version of myself during this down time, I’m refusing things that I’d normally not even blink about eating. “No thanks” is not my usual response when someone offers me cake. That is not my idea of fun, at all. I know it will be better in the long run but right now, no cake does not a happy girl make.

While I could blame this funk only on my injured and pissed off body, I think it’s more than that. I can’t put my finger directly on it- not that I ever can- but something is off. I’m feeling all angsty like some seventeen year-old girl wondering if her boyfriend really does love her.

The phone rings and without even a glance at the caller ID, I say words that should only be uttered by a sailor and chuck it across the room. It’s not that I don’t want to talk, I just don’t have anything nice to say. I have a date with a nice guy and I wear nice shoes and I come home without even so much as a butterfly. I’m two weeks away from a really hard test and studying is the last thing on my mind. I still find a way to make myself do it, but it’s not as exciting as it was six weeks ago.

I just need to wait it out. I remember, I was funny once. Just week or two ago, I had a good attitude. I could find the good in a bad day and all that happy-go-lucky behavior came so easily. It’s no wonder I held onto the dream from my last post so tightly; feelings like that have been hard to come by lately. I want to be settled and calm and I’m just not. The tightness in my stomach and my chest won’t go away. I feel myself surrendering to the frustration and all I can do is tell myself that tomorrow will be different.