I’ve never had insomnia. Ever. I usually sleep very well. Then Friday hit. Bad news in the mail with an 11 miler planned the next day. I was up until 2am trying desperately to sleep:
- Close your eyes.
- Look at clock
- Panic because you have to be up in 6 hours, then 5, then 4, then…you’re not getting up.
- Play Words with Friends
- Watch your East Coast friends on Twitter get up and run.
This happened Friday night. Then Saturday night, when a friend had to peel me off the wall, because for the first time in two years, I let what happened…happen. Like, I stopped swimming upstream. Had just finished signing papers after fighting for two years…only to watch it crumble away like sand slipping through my fingers. And, the Vineman I wanted to go to could not happen.
And I repeated the night before’s actions. Until 2:30. I figured I could sleep in. But it doesn’t really work that way. So more tossing and turning. Turn the TV on, then off. Read. Get a drink.
On Sunday I planned those 11 miles. And it didn’t happen. I laid in the pool hoping I wasn’t going to lose all of my fitness. My kids came home. We had a party at the house, and cake was left, and then I was eating sugar straight of the edges of the icing. And planned to run. Again. Maybe tomorrow.
Monday morning came and went. Last night I had ice cream. And was up until 3am. Pondering my life and my home and my kids and my direction. And knew I wouldn’t run today either.
My eyes flew open at 7am. As my blog tag says, “If not now, when?” I was exhausted. I laced up. I put my clothes on and walked outside. And I walked to the corner.
My calves said, “now”. I ran three junk miles. And, at the end, my body was screaming for more.
Tonight, there will be no electronics late. No TV. No sugar or caffeine. I will wake tomorrow and get through this hump to begin again.