What I Want

I want to run.  You know, be one of those people that gets up and runs in the mornings (or sometime during the day) for exercise on a regular basis.  I want to be one of those people that runs in races:  5ks, 6ks, half marathons...  Though probably not a whole marathon, ever.  That sounds scary.

More than anything, I just want to have that drive, that motivation, that determination.  I want to love doing something so much that I just can't not do it.  I want something that is just for me.  A pocket, a space, in my world that has nothing to do with anyone else.  Something I don't have to share.  Something that I protect so fully that the only way another person - or something else - can invade is if I want it to.  And I want to protect this thing so strongly that I rarely want to let life invade.

I don't really know why I want that thing to be running.  I'm not even really sure that thing has to be running.  I just know that running is what I've tried to make that part of my life be repeatedly over the years.  Running has an allure that I've never been able to shake.

Maybe its just that running isn't meant to be my thing?  Could be, but I doubt it.  I really believe my thing can be whatever I want it to be.  My problem isn't that I haven't chosen the right activity, it's that I choose everything else over that activity too often.  I lack that drive, that motivation, that determination.  And I think, when I really dig down deep to the core of the issue, I lack that love for myself, that confidence in myself, to think that I deserve to have something just for me.  Now there's something to think about...

Just Write

When it never ends...

On my desk sits a pile of grading that I have yet to do.  Even though I've worked all morning long, I just can't seem to make a dent in it.  The to do list here is so long, and it never ends...

At home sits piles of laundry - some that need to be washed and dried, some that need to be folded and put away.  The floors need swept and vacuumed again.  The toys need put away again.  It never ends here either..

And then there is the desk at home.  Piled high with bills that need to pay, papers that need to be filed, and homework that needs to done.  Every day more of the same...

There are two little faces waiting for me to pick them up - one from day care and one from the bus.  One is begging - has been begging - to paint turkeys on his pumpkins.  The other has been sick and wants nothing but cuddles and "more drink."  And I'm so tired, and there's so much left to do...

Oh, and I'm supposed to vote today.  I've already run home to pick up my forgotten registration card.  And the coupon for the book order that should have been done yesterday.  Turns out for some reason the darn program didn't register my coupon anyway, and I don't know how to fix it.  And I don't care... 

As I sit here feeling so overwhelmed I'm ready to cry, the question Why? rolls through my head.  Over and over again...

Why do babies get sick at the most inconvenient times?

Why do husbands leave?

Why me?

I write it out, I look it over, and I pick a place to start.  And I keep going.  And going.  And going.  I work toward that one moment when things are mostly done - even if it is only one moment.

This is my life.  Right now in this moment.  And really, I'm glad to be here.

just write