Yesterday Aside

So I am doing some LSD, which stands for long slow distance in the running world, and my mind is racing with blog updates—the general thought pattern being the positive path life is on. I am this perfect type of content, comfortable with room for improvement. This day, April 15 at 9:00 am, was already promising—I woke up with plenty of time to make (and eat) pancakes with a side of fruit and indulge in a latte, all before changing into running clothes and hitting the gym. The weather was so nice, yet I opted for the treadmill instead. I had plans set for lunch at the best café in town, where outdoor seating is plentiful. Throughout the pounding, I just kept thinking to myself “I feel so good right now. I am so happy!” This thought transcends beyond those running moments. I am physically the best I have been since January 2010--I am in shape, I am eating healthy (and regularly), and I am sleeping better. These sound like basic human rights—freedom to exercise, freedom to indulge, and freedom to rest peacefully… until they dissipate. In the beginning I struggled with the absence, then in human fashion, I learned to adjust… to the extent where a meal proceeded without a stomach ache or a full nights sleep threw me off.

It is ironic that on Sunday, just five days after recovering from a three-day migraine coupled with bouts of stomach pain, I was already thinking about how great I am doing physically. I was hesitant as to whether or not to share, when Sunday night, hours after this “thoughtful” run, I got a headache. (This one--luckily?--never progressed to full blown migraine and was gone after sleeping.) I decided the update was necessary because even if I am not operating at-best physically, I am doing much much much better.

I used to ascribe value to being more athletic, kinder, prettier, skinnier, smarter, etc. because I trusted in them to give me worth, to make me happier. Then I graduated from high school, quickly discovering that these things are not true. Like anyone over 17, I had to dig internally and find strength elsewhere. It was there. I was a strong person, or thought of myself in that manner anyway, faulty attributes and all. Adult or not, I ascribe significant value to my health. I believed general wellness was controllable... until the unrelenting parasite. The ongoing saga makes me feel really really really weak. Weak. Pitiful. Vulnerable. Exposed. Ashamed. Had I been told in February 2010 I would coexist with this parasite for a possible decade—the estimated time this friend will be with me—I would have given up. But now that it is April 2012 and I know how to manage the symptoms, I will survive, living a fairly normal life.

Half (or more) of our being is mental. And, here too, I am a revived soul. How is that for drama? In all seriousness, since September 2010 I have waited on me. The third changed my life drastically, and mostly I could handle this, but I refused to start from scratch; there were pieces of me I very much liked—my passion above all. Part of my new found “mental energy” I suppose comes with having a working purpose, though job or not, I am less apathetic. Following the tragedy, I stopped caring about much of what fueled my past, namely Mother Earth, starving African children, and friendships. It is nice to have recently caught myself inserting opinions where and taking pleasure in pastimes. I honestly shock myself with my concern regarding this and that, experiencing these feelings is foreign.

My family joked that my 24^th year of life had to be better than 23… but the mood-swings in September and illness in November shot that dream down quickly. Then, no longer joking, we hoped for 2012. And one-quarter in, this might be the year. Because if nothing else, I have a recovered frame of mind.