I met with my new trainer on Wednesday and I think he’s great. It’s weird how certain motions are difficult for me. His goal over the next month is to open up the tension in my neck, shoulders and back so that on race day I feel light and full of energy. The idea is that I’ll have more energy because I won’t be fighting the tight spots in my body. I’m so happy I made this switch. He’s a keeper.
I also am finally getting over this sickness. I had a great tempo run yesterday, even though breathing is still a little labored. I averaged a 7:44 over the tempo portion, which was 6 miles this week. The total run was 13.1 miles in 1:47. That’s 10 minutes faster than my half marathon PR from November. Yay!
I’m not a big Facebook or Twitter person, but I stop in both time to time so as to not be the relic I actually am. This morning I saw that my “baby” brother is having an art show tonight in Kansas. I so wish I could go. I am not close to my siblings and never was close to my brother except a brief period in my early 20s and his tween years (I didn’t live at home — go figure why that was when we got along. Also, we bonded over Beavis & Butthead). My sister and I have had our moments of closeness, but not much at all in the last 8 years when she moved near my parents. My parents think nothing of going into my sister’s house and rearranging her furniture and pictures on the wall when she’s not home. They say horrible things about her behind her back. I’m sure most of it isn’t even true judging from the things they’ve said about me behind my back that aren’t even rational half the time, nevermind a realistic portrayal of me.
Looking at my brother’s Facebook post, I was hit by sadness and by how much I miss him and my sister. By my longing for a relationship with them. To a degree, I understand why that is so difficult. When my sister lived in another state from our parents and she and I were close, my mother gave her hell for talking to me. So my sister would either cancel plans with me to escape the wrath or not tell my mother she was speaking to me. It was hard on my sister. Now that she lives near them, I don’t stand a chance. I’m grateful that she still emails me on my birthday. That’s an act of defiance on her part.
Our mother is terrific at one thing: driving wedges between her kids and our dad. No lie is too small. I gave up fighting it for my own sake, but I gave up so much in doing so. Sometimes, like this morning, it hurts so badly. I want to do something drastic to try to make it all right again. Lay myself on the train tracks so my mother can run the train over me. Again.
But I won’t because it always ends badly. I try to be strong, but I’m not strong enough for that, for the malignancy that is my mother. I may never be strong enough. So I stay safe instead.