I read this today, and identified. Truly.
So, re-entry into post-marathon life continues – it’s like being paroled. I like my metaphors. They’re fun. And creative…
It’s weird, even though I didn’t finish the marathon, I still think some of the exhaustion that follows the completion of training and participating in a race (finish or not, we all had 26.2 miles ahead of us when we crossed the start line) has hung on. I’m tired, unfocused, uninspired. I tried to convince @ to be a look out today at work, so I could nap without new boss-man catching me. She declined this opportunity.
More importantly, when I decide it’s time to blog, I sit down, open up brand spankin’ new document in Microsoft Word, and… nothing… This has happened at least twice.
I want to stop writing about the marathon, and all things with the word marathon in it, unless that thing happens to begin with the prefix “half.” How’s this:
Lou: My neck hurts today. @, will you give me a neck massage?
Lou: Will you give me a back massage?
@: How would you really feel if I actually said ‘Yes’ to that?
Lou: Um. Good. My neck hurts.
@: Not only is that weird, but I HAVE A BROKEN FINGER.
Lou: Oh, OK. I see. I try to treat you like a normal person – the way I would treat any person with normal, full-functioning fingers – I don’t dwell on your differently-abled-ness, and you throw it back in my face.
OK. So maybe that’s not exactly how that went.