Lightening Up

In a moment of openness. And vulnerability. I confided in Tommy. That I had again put on another 5 lbs. And am again at my new highest weight ever.

And he responded. This friend. That I’d shared this vulnerable moment with. By saying, “Sounds like you’re just solidifying.”

Solidifying?

The fuck does solidifying mean?

Is that…like…fossilizing?

Sturdy? Are you saying I’m sturdy?

For future reference. Men who may be reading this. Never. Ever. Tell a woman she’s solid. Physically solid. Physically solidifying. Don’t say shit like that.

There are just so many other words he could have used.

I’ve given him a list of those alternate words. Toning, getting stronger, getting leaner, building lean muscle, etc.

So we shouldn’t have this issue again.

But I do seem to be…not solidifying. But breaking down. Again.

Hurt my hand using the bathroom the other day.

Which really felt like it should maybe be considered a low point for me.

It’s not like I go particularly aggressively when I pee.

I was just trying to get some toilet paper. And moved my hand in a position which displeased it. And now my right index finger isn’t speaking to me.

And my back. My back just aches now. Just always.

Because I’m trying to correct my hunchback posture. By standing and sitting straight. With all of my everything aligned. I hope.

And that shit hurts.

Slouching is wayyyyy more comfortable.

So now every hour or so. I have to just kind of flop over in half. And let my back rest.

Yesterday one of my co-workers prayed over me. Without me realizing.

Because I was bent over. Forehead on my desk. Talking through testing.

The purpose for this positioning was two-fold.

First, as I’ve already explained, my back. I have no core strength. Just zero ability to hold myself upright for any length of time.

But more importantly. Truancy. And Equity.

My desk is covered. Quite literally. With truancy. And equity. Stuff.

Just folders. And letters. And papers. Just all over my desk.

But because testing requirements and information have changed. Again. For the 500th time. This year. I have to focus my attention on that for a while.

And I cannot focus on testing. When I have truancy. And equity. Littering my desk.

So, I put my head down. And began talking myself through it. What I needed to do.

And me having a full on conversation with myself is not unusual.

But me having a full on conversation with the floor is.

So my co-worker who happened to be passing by stopped. And started praying over me.

Silently.

And I appreciated that. Sincerely.

I will take all of the prayers. Just all of them.

Because I am using just every bit of any motivation and energy I have to get through the workday.

And every day I plan. I have every damn intention. To go home. And workout. Or run.

And then I get home. And I see my jammies.

And the next thing I know. I’m passed out on the couch. Computer on my lap. And beer in my hand. Cats eating Dorito crumbs off of my shirt.

Super sexy.

So, when Fall Risk and Rogue declined my virtual workout pleas. But GJB suggested Grassy Hill. I committed.

I don’t commit easily these days.

It takes every ounce of effort I can summon to carry myself back out the door after getting home from work.

Mostly because nothing is within reasonable driving distance of where I exist.

But I’m so glad I did.

Because we needed that trail time.

I’ve been a fairly shitty friend to him of late.

To be fair, I’ve been a pretty shitty friend to everyone.

So. I mean. At least I’m not targeting him?

But it’s cool.

We spent the 6 1/2 trail miles. In the dark. Talking through shit.

And GJB swears that we’ve done a strength intervals run there together before.

But at no point. During that entire run. Did I ever know where I was.

Which. Ok. I recognize that that in and of itself is not proof that I’ve never been to that trail.

But I barely even managed to find my way there. I don’t think I’d ever even been in that part of Franklin County before.

Which. Ok…

But it’s definitely not on my Strava.

And if it’s not on Strava. It definitely didn’t happen.

And it felt amazing. To get out there on trail. At night. And just vomit up all of the shit that’s been processing in my brain for the last month or so.

I came out feeling so much lighter.

And definitely not “solid.”

But as we started on the last loop. I guess. I guess it was a loop. GJB kept mentioning loops. Long skinny loops. As we started on the last loop.

My left hip flexor just got immediately and inexplicably irate.

Just out of nowhere.

I tried to explain it to Beautiful Beastie. When she asked about running Rock Castle Gorge tomorrow.

I can’t explain it. I’m just a mess. Just always. Just a mess always.

Her response was to call me an “awesome mess.”

Which is the correct response.

When someone is sharing a vulnerable moment with you.

Just…for future reference.

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