You Can Do It - Ice Cube

Saturday everything was different. I moved along for 14.7 miles. Three and a half hours. I ended up stranded and limping through my least favorite place in the city, Chestnut Street in the Marina. No one has eaten a carb there for seven years. 

Who am I to judge? 
Sheesh. 

After much  jogging, some walking, and a little sprinting for good measure, I dragged what was left of my carcass to the Apple store and typed out an email to Ginger from an iPad. My first. Eh. The thing didn't thrill me. This jaunt brought me to experience certain sensations of pain I have not yet felt in this life. Each heel a bruise to pound, the knees feeling unhinged, mostly on the right, and the hips aching. Not like where you put your hands on your hips, but where, on the sides of your legs, there is space around the corner from your ass, above the thigh. Furthermore, a fatigue in the lower back, a throbbing in my left arm.

Like I mentioned, I'm a bad planner, so it didn't help matters that I spent the previous evening getting a huge tattoo outline. I don't want to brag about how gorgeous the thing is, but ok, I will. It's so dang pretty. There's a barn owl in flight clutching an old skeleton key tagged by a red rope. A banner weaves in under the bird to an antique padlock, open. The banner bears a Rilke quote, "Let everything happen to you." That run across the bridge reminded me of the quote. To tell you the truth, everything reminds me of it. The shocking utter pleasure of Wednesday, the insistent pain of Saturday. All of it. It all matters. I'm too old to try and avoid discomfort. It's what life does, the necessity of our humanity. But you know, I am also old enough to know better than to schedule a tattoo the night before the longest run of my life. Or run/walk. Duh. Anyhow, I'll show you the thing when it's done.

I will call the foot doctor and I will move forward with the training.
No matter what. I'll do my best.

I can do it.
I can do it.
I can do it.

Love,
Sara Elise