Fight or Flight

I have always chosen to run when staring down at the last straw.

Stay until the pain is so overwhelming you feel as though a thick sludge is pulling you into the ground. Take a deep breath and with all your stored energy, free yourself and run as fast as you can.

Distance is key.

Make it as difficult as possible to turn around. Sever all the ties and burn all the bridges.  

I want to run again.

I want to run farther than I have ever run before. Leave this mess; these hard questions and difficult decisions. Start over somewhere I don’t have a history. Disappearing into the landscape where I’m just a face in a crowd.

I want to run.

Then I broke my toe.

So painful I didn’t even scream.

So poetic, I had to laugh at myself.

So this time…I guess I’m fighting.

As hard as I try, I will never be able to run from myself. And so much of what I run from is just that…me. No matter where I go, I'll still be standing there with myself. Instead, I must fight through it even when I think I can’t fight another day. I doesn’t get any easier, but its worth it. Right? I will fail and fall and get back up again. And it will happen over and over and over again.

What beats you down only wants you to give up and accept it. Pursuing a better life, becoming a better person is littered with land mines built to urge you backward.

Moving forward will be difficult, it will be painful but it will not be mundane, it will not be ordinary. Zombies don’t know what day it is because it doesn't matter. Every day is exactly the same. 

Our days are not one day on repeat. Our days are precious.

Going through the motions is the interstate. The fastest and ugliest route. 

The backroads cause you to pause, look around and discover yourself and the world around you. 

And when my toe heals...I'll fight the urge to put my running shoes back on. 

(Metaphorically of course...I wear flip flops.)