I am training for a half marathon that is taking place in 3 days. This entails a lot of running. When I say a lot of running it means in the last 3 months I have logged over 170 miles of running. This is crazy. I was not a runner. I used to smoke 2 packs a day. I only ran from things that scared me. This running has made me happy. It makes me so happy that I weep with gratitude while I run. And this Bjork song called Violently Happy rings through my ears EVERY.TIME.I.
Lately I have been seeing myself taking a head first dive off the rim of the Grand Canyon and instead of sprouting wings (like I thought I would) my body is in a free fall, flailing itself from one rock ledge to the next. Bam-Ouch.
Smack-Aargh. Each full throttle smattering on the ledge reminds me of: An unpaid bill (bang)
A shitty should (thump)
The weight I have put on (slap)
That time that day I raised my voice at the kids (whack)
My lack of motivation to
awe According to Merriam-Webster, AWE is an emotion variously combining dread, veneration, and wonder that is inspired by authority or by the sacred or sublime. The last 5 weeks of my life have been filled with incredible AWE… The kind of AWE that made me sob tears of joy upon seeing the space shuttle for the first time, thus fulfilling a childhood dream…the dream of being an astronaut… The kid of AWE that I felt when my 3 beautiful stepchildren looked me in the eye, held my