wild eyes and foaming lips

  • Tuesday, June 12, 2012
  • 0
Frustration that I've been facing
I don't remember how but I've lost motivation
I can't stop this sinking feeling from creeping over me
I can't stop myself seeing the darkness in front of me

It's not that hard to just fall apart, fall apart.
It's not that hard to just fall apart, I'm falling apart.
It's not that hard to just fall apart, from the start.
It's not that hard to just fall apart, I'm falling apart.
(Less Than Jake)


A few weeks ago I ran with friends. It was fun, running like gypsy kings with wild eyes and foaming lips and as colourful as kites. We ran across evergreen Kent fields, through villages and past backyards containing yapping dogs and noisy kids. The different internal landscapes we inhabit revealed themselves in fragments as we ran, different hopes and different dreams that found a safe place for expression amongst us. I felt hope.

My following runs have been lonely and duty bound. I am spiritually, emotionally and physically tired and I bank training miles with the weight of monkeys on my back. It's soul destroying and I feel like a stone falling down a long, black well. Black is my theme, I have crossed the familiar rubicon I know so well to the dark side. I'm frustrated, my running is going so well yet the dead ends I face seem to put the handbrake on, I can't go to the next level.

When joy dies it gets harder to pick up and go.





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