The Long Run

It’s like something is constantly, gently, clawing at the inside of my forehead. My concentration is shot, and I flit between things I need to get done and other tasks and diversions. Unimportant yet easier to handle in my current state of mind. Diverted, distracted, stressed and unable to gain a moment of calm. Sleep arrives, quickly followed by the alarm, another day spent tired and worn out. Maybe I need a holiday?

Stepping out into the morning air, the dew clinging to the chill on the breeze my brain is already going, rolling along through the checklist for the day. Phone her, start this, talk to him, finish that, all tumbling together regardless of priority, without due care as to why they are present, scrabbling for attention, for verification, clamouring to be noticed above the noise.

As I ease the car from the driveway, the damp air pools down the windows, the blades wiping the glass clean. My brain clutter continues.

Pulling out into the road, navigating potholes, the car speeds up as I force my attention forward and away from the rambling chaos that jumbles my view. I press on, and push down into the depths of my mind, searching once more for that notion, that precious thing that helps me focus, that has kept me on track for a while now. Once shiny and new, an unexpected visitor, it now lies dormant, run over and road dirtied. I swerve to avoid a carcass, briefly wondering if I am suffering the same, and immediately unsure of which I mean. Runover or swerving? Both?

The sun flashes behind me, peeking over hills and through treetops, blinding and guiding me as the road winds on. Winding through fields, crows peck at the threads of my mind and scatter, pulling them away, swooping and wheeling, dark and featureless.

I grasp at moments hoping they will stick and help me through, clinging to shards of hope until the road jars them from my grasp. The fall and shatter and on I search.

The journey settles down, familiar and routine and my thoughts drift, quieting my attention, but only for a while. They always return and as I approach my destination, so the fog descends, blocking my view, hiding the hidden notion, obscuring the corners and recesses of thought. As I slow to take a corner, a rabbit, startled, takes off in a graceful fit of speed. Running hard, bounding, turning and twisting, it runs free.

And my answer is found.

You see I’ve been feeling, I dunno, not stressed really, more distracted and a little jittery recently. Nothing major, and it only really hits home when I sit down to try and get through some work (in the office or at home). It’s only really come on a few weeks ago and it’s taken me until now to figure out what has caused it.

I’m off to see the Doctor on Friday to see what he says but it’s almost a relief to realise that I’m not going mad, I’m not descending into any deep dark places. I just miss running.

I’m guessing at Patellar Tendinitis, but I’ll let the Doc decide…