I clocked two miles jogging and walking at the YMCA indoor track the other day, "running" for the first time in two months. It was some seriously slow running, but it was exhilarating, and it was largely pain-free.
The doc has cleared me for a jog/walk program to do about three times a week, in addition to all the silly-looking exercises I continue to perform with bands, balls, bikes and balance boards in order to strengthen my little muscles.
Other than that 20 minutes of tentatively experienced bliss at the Y, this week could easily be described as one long, cold piece of stinking, over-caffeinated crap. Pardon my French, but I'm tired of being nice and polite. The rest of my waking hours not at physical therapy or the gym were spent moving wearily from home to car to work and back, and at every turn I encountered insensitivity in others, or just plain arrogance.
Note to self: Time to stop wasting energy on relationships that are devoid of equality and respect. The asshole magnet that has heretofore been sticking to my forehead like a neon sign has officially been ripped off and thrown in the trash. And it landed right on top of that old, smelly toothbrush.
So tonight I went and got a manicure and my nails were painted bright red. My manicurist mentioned there was a holiday coming up on Monday, but for a moment I couldn't recall which one she was talking about.
Then I went to the grocery store and saw a guy wheeling a cellophane-wrapped bouquet of carnations around, looking like he was embarrassed to be found complicit in this ridiculous display of sentiment, yet bound by custom. I went to the mall and browsed pink lingerie hanging on racks. I passed couples holding hands. I come home and hear my roommate and her boyfriend through the wall. I turn my music up and smile.
Phew, I think. It's finally hit me. Relief. Relief to be free of such tediousness, of such worry and work and obligation to please the opposite sex, only to unwittingly offer up one's heart to the shredder. How much more satisfying it is to devote pleasure to oneself.
Forget flowers and cute little cards scrawled with empty words, with apologies. This nice girl has got bigger and better races to run.
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