Why is it my Achilles and shins always feel wonky the day after a massage? Didn't run on Friday and yesterday battled a fever and pounding headache. Unsure if it is stress or a virus of some sort. Any time I don't get to run I fear I have moved into a dangerous space - like being caught in the inner, vicious circle of a busy round-a-bout with a broken turn signal.
Being back at work is an adjustment. Having spent most of the summer alone with my thoughts, it is a kind of shock to my mental system: all these words and ideas intruding into an orderly space. I wonder if this isn't a little bit what it is like to struggle with autism? I am beyond edgy and, not having been able to run, I feel myself being wound tighter and tighter by every word I overhear on the train. Every word spoken directly to me causes me to pause in anticipation, to see if this is the one that will crack the lid I have on it all.
I woke to the sound of the rain this morning. Now, sitting at my desk, the hollow whistle of the wind between the wood of the window frame is kind of lulling. Not in a good way, though. It sort of flattens everything so that the past comes to the surface and all the colors blend into the kind of mud and slate grey that is a rainy day like this.
The birch tree is shaking like it is having a fit of some sort.
But it is doing it silently.
And sort of out of tact with the window-whistling.
So. Where does it come from on a day like this? Where do I find the catalyst that gets me to put my shoes on, pull on a raincoat and go running among the fitful birches?