The Dark Side of my Brain

May in Boulder brings the annual mess of a road race called the Bolder Boulder. Waaaaayyyyy back when, I ran that race. I think a few of my times are still listed in some big best of the Bolder Boulder times by year chart. The first time I ran it, it was sort of split into elite runners, and everybody else. I ran a few years when race officials split it into elite men, elite women, and everyone else. Now it's a million waves with the elite teams consisting of runners from around the world, starting after the masses of runners, joggers and walkers have crossed or staggered over the finish line. The elite course is also different than the main road race. It's more spectator friendly. Most years I was glad to be away from the crowds, usually up on the trails jogging. The last few years, I have been stuck, trapped in by the race itself, house-sitting for friends. I might have to plan a get away the night before.

To anyone running the big race- GOOD LUCK!!


I can tell that I have made progress with therapy. Of course I still have a long way to go, but I am getting better at catching things before I do my usual pattern-run, flounce, stick my head in the sand or throw out a bucket full of snark. My head is swimming lately though, and I'm kind of burned out on everything. Really, I'm trying to process too much, and that can lead to wanting to escape. I can see that I could potentially be well on my way to becoming a cat lady, which wouldn't be so bad, only my dark side of the brain can sometimes make my retreat look more like Pink Floyd's the Wall than a lady in a purple sweater with 26 cats. Either way, I'm feeling both like I want to flee the scene and also to attempt to not give up hope and plug the holes of a sinking ship in an emergency effort. Sometimes getting involved in the bullshit of others is worse than tackling what's in your own back yard. I feel sucked dry and emotionally spent for so many reasons. Plus, I keep getting that gripping feeling in my tummy, the one that makes me feel like I want to yarf. Fun stuff.

An odd thing occurred to me the other day. I had a thought. This isn't extraordinarily odd, but the "AHA" moment that followed was, especially because it hadn't occurred earlier. Let me explain that a bit further. My entire family seems to have a fear of abandonment, while all of us are completely fine and even crave alone time. It's one of those paradoxes of life. I always figured it had something to do with my dad being so unpredictable and not able to be *there* as a parent consistently. I'm now convinced that in the case of my half brothers, the fact that they often go into hanging on mode is more due to the fact that their father died when they were young. Meanwhile, my sister and I have a similar pattern due to a very different situation, a father who was too often drunk. In the end though, all of us are craving something we didn't get or get enough of as kids.




Right now I'm inflicting a little personal isolation on myself, trying to decide how much is for for protection, how much is due to sheer exhaustion and how much it even matters. I hate when my brain is like this, because I get these brilliant thoughts away from the computer, and can't even hold onto them long enough to write them out once I get to the keyboard. Sigh. It's like typing something on the screen, only to have it accidentally deleted, the words getting sucked into the *tubes* that comprise the Internet, never to be seen again. But it could also be like my brilliant night self and more rational morning self- thinking an idea is fantastic late at night, only to wake up and think, "what the fuck was I thinking!?" Let's hope so, because I thought I had someting important to say earlier, but it has been zapped completely from my brain.

I hate walking down a path littered with I told you so. It puts me in a British Band kind of mood. By the way, how did the The Libertines beat out Radiohead for the top spot of the 40 most popular British Bands today? That makes no sense. But really, I'm talking 90's British Bands- Britpop, if you will.

I can't figure out why Boulder kids are so pissed off.  I have had a few upsetting encounters lately. I mean, what-  "Man, my parents don't understand me, and growing up in the slums of Boulder is, like, so hard. My dad refuses to get my tennis racket restrung. Damn. I can't deal with that shit."

Now for my own complaining..

It's hard to believe that I'm still sore from the little workout I did on Saturday. I guess since I'm not quite 100 percent, it makes it a bit harder on my body. Rehab was good today though. There's a slight problem in my lower back/butt area, so I need to work on that. My right side is in need of some serious strengthening sessions, which seems odd, considering that it was my left foot that went through all the trauma of the operation.


My head is in a bad space tonight.