Polar bears and sore muscles

Running at 6 a.m. is an interesting idea.  Especially when no one is making you and you do it just for the sake of feeling awake and alive.  Runing never loses it's magic for me, no matter how many times I try to break up with it.  There is just something wonderful about it that makes me take it back.  The way the legs and lungs work together, in combination with muscles and bones and joints and all reasons i wanted to do medicine in the first place.  There is harmony in the exertion, and i love it.  I loved it today more than most.  Perhaps it was running alongside a good friend and recalling an endeavor that took place almost a year ago.  I have done quite a bit of running, but in my mind i think running will always make me think of hlp.  Running and ranting, running in the rain, running with a stress fracture, running to check something off the list, running for exercise, running to catch up, running to rant some more.  So now it is 12, and I've been up since 5, and I know I'll crash later, but for now i am just content to regard my achy legs with a smile and no small amount of pride. After all, these suckers consistently carried me 3.1 miles this morning, not even counting every day of my life.   

I think i would label this feeling: content. 

A thousand shattered pieces

i met jane in the center of the earth, it was dark and there was dirt all around, but i gather you can figure that....

 I wish i could cry and feel better instead of worse.  and when you ask if i'm ok, i wish i could say well, no actually, i feel like things are crumbling.  instead, i smile even as my vision is blurred by the tears that are threatening to fall.  and i turn away and i get out my books and try to escape into the world of academia.  it won't be the first time.  but i can't focus on the words, and as hard as i try the tears are determined to mess up my makeup, creating little blue puddles in the book.  i hurriedly brush them off- i don't want there to be evidence of my undoing.  closing my eyes, i think i actually see things for the first time.  there is clarity as i squeeze my eyes shut, and i vainly think how i'm such an ugly crier, but that thought is a temporary deferment from the reality that things are different.  and they will stay that way, because i've seen this movie before and i know how it goes.  i know my part well, your face is different but the lines are the same.  and i know there is nothing i can say to change anything, because i've tried and it ends the same.  i know in my head that this isn't really about me, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.

as you go, know that a part of me goes with you.