I have my workouts scheduled for the week, to make sure I fit in each run for the 5K training schedule and to make sure I carve out the time each day. Yesterday was supposed to be my second 1.5 mile run for the 5K training, so I hit the front door ready to change clothes and lace up my running shoes.
Instead, when I got home, I ended up on the couch for at least an hour, listening to my poor boyfriend, who is struggling yet again with another issue from Psycho, his ex-wife. Mind you, they separated over 9 years ago, so Psycho should have moved on and gotten her own life by now. She hasn’t. Her life revolved around digging into our lives, grilling the kids about what we say or do, or even what I wear to bed (yes, the crazy bitch has actually asked the kids that).
I’m not even going to get into the latest bullshit stunt. More of the same, drama, jealousy, pettiness, using the kids to lash out because she’s never cared about them as people, just as pawns.
I got so angry and upset, listening to him, hearing the frustration and anger in his voice, his fear for the kids, and I felt all of my energy drain from me. I’m so tired of living in a battlefield. We are constantly under attack. We are constantly battling some form of nonsense from Psycho. It’s draining and exhausting and life-sucking.
My boyfriend and I talked a long time, and though we didn’t end up skipping through tulips and gushing with happiness, the conversation turned to possible solutions, and I made sure he knew I love him and won’t ever turn into a hormonal, raging, hippo-bitch like his ex-wife, ha ha. We talked about going to look at a house I saw online today, and I glanced at the clock and thought “Well, no workout tonight.”
Thankfully, something immediately slapped me in the face. Why? Why should I skip my workout? Because his ex-wife is a bitch with no life and is stirring up crap again? Because I have a million things to do? Something else is going to have to go to the back burner from now on, damnit. I’m sick of not taking care of myself just because Psycho is a toxic cow beast. I’m sick of having a to-do list a mile long, and letting things like my workout be the first thing to come off.
“After my workout,” I said.
I went for a run at a park nearby. Just a few steps in, I knew it was a mistake to move outside from the air-conditioned treadmill so soon. It was pushing 100 degrees, humid, and the park has small hills I barely felt when I was in shape but felt like Mount Everest to me last night! Less than half a mile in, I was gasping for breath, had shin splints, and felt like a miserable failure.
I’m going to make my 1.5 miles. That’s all I kept thinking. Practically everything else in my life may keep blowing up and irritating me and testing me, but I am taking control of this.
I had to slow to a walk twice, then stop briefly to stretch my calves and shins. But I started running again. I wanted to quit. It was so hot, it was agonizing, and I felt so out of shape and humiliated, especially when a pair of blonde-ponytailed female runners trotted by, with their perfect form and match-y running outfits. But I kept running.
When I finished the 1.5 miles and thankfully, mercifully walked to cool down, I texted my boyfriend, “That was torture.” He instantly texted back: “But you did it.”
That’s right, I did it. Getting stressed out over Psycho’s crap is the #1 reason I have fallen off the wagon and quit trying and gained weight back. It’s giving power to a miserable wretch who deserves no power whatsoever over my actions.
This is for me. This is for my boyfriend. This is for the kids, so I can be a kick-ass role model for them when they have no positive female role model in their mother, that’s for sure.
It was only a 1.5 mile run, but I am as proud of myself as if I ran a full marathon, because I didn’t let stress and anger derail me. I ran anyway. That is going to be my motto: “Do it anyway!”
My Time to Bloom 