830am, sunday. rested.
i just woke up, so bear with me.
it's funny to me how hard we can be on ourselves... you know? concrete example (because that's what im into these days, it seems): last night i went running. i have to preface this with I HATE RUNNING. no, like, really really hate running. more than anything and anyone in the world, probably. i hate it so much that as time as gone on, its become somewhat of an instrument... when i am angry or overreacting or upset with someone, its a bit of a necessity that i run. because i will get so much more angrier at the running, at myself in that running motion, that i can cure any sort of negative feelings toward someone or something else.
running is kind of like that raunch-ass red cough syrup you never want to take but know you have to or else you wont get better any other way. or echinacea perhaps. damn that stuff is raunch.
and so it is with running.
but i digress, back to my thought: we are so incredibly hard on ourselves, *physically* -- yea yea i understand that society and the media are a bunch of bullshitting bastards making everyone 2 out of 3 women feel like shit on a regular basis, but im talking *deeper* than that. we are hard on ourselves, perhaps for similar reasons i guess(?), because of our physical limitations. like last night when i went running. i havent been running ages. no, im serious, AGES. besides the fact that i totally psychologically syke myself out, its as if when i run, all i can think about it is running.
this i am working on.
but afterwards (and perhaps even during) i was Soooo much more angry at ME than anything else. why am i not in the shape i was 10 months ago? a year? 4 years? why can't i give out as much energy as i want to? why can my legs keep going for miles (ex: The Breast Cancer 3Day) but my windpipe promises to burn off and out if i attempt it?
after i got home, A called just as i got out of the shower (she's been in norcal for the weekend at a tourney) and, following trend, i found myself on the verge of *making fun of myself* for not having any endurance whatsoever.
note to people who dont understand the significance of this: 1. this is my significant other, whom i trust with everything. 2. we, as humans, attempt to forego ridicule by others by making fun of ourselves before they can.
point: i actually cared that someone, even A, would think *something,* anything, about my not being able to physically excell.
and my friends? i dont regularly give a shit about anything *anyone* thinks.
so this is my question, philosophical or otherwise... if i cared, do you? does the majority of hte world? why are we so hard on ourselves. how can i, personally, be held accountable for my physical capabilities or the extent of my endurance??
thats like being held accountable, negatively, for the fact that i have blonde hair. or have freckles.
i mean what the fuck?
so. resolution: im not going to let it happen again. there is no helping, at this point, how out of shape my body is and how unhealthy that makes it feel. but as she pointed out last night, A cares about as much about my physical limitations as i *should* care -- not at all.
so health concerns and ambitions aside, im done with it.
im going running. and i will huff and puff all i want. rar.
it's funny to me how hard we can be on ourselves... you know? concrete example (because that's what im into these days, it seems): last night i went running. i have to preface this with I HATE RUNNING. no, like, really really hate running. more than anything and anyone in the world, probably. i hate it so much that as time as gone on, its become somewhat of an instrument... when i am angry or overreacting or upset with someone, its a bit of a necessity that i run. because i will get so much more angrier at the running, at myself in that running motion, that i can cure any sort of negative feelings toward someone or something else.
running is kind of like that raunch-ass red cough syrup you never want to take but know you have to or else you wont get better any other way. or echinacea perhaps. damn that stuff is raunch.
and so it is with running.
but i digress, back to my thought: we are so incredibly hard on ourselves, *physically* -- yea yea i understand that society and the media are a bunch of bullshitting bastards making everyone 2 out of 3 women feel like shit on a regular basis, but im talking *deeper* than that. we are hard on ourselves, perhaps for similar reasons i guess(?), because of our physical limitations. like last night when i went running. i havent been running ages. no, im serious, AGES. besides the fact that i totally psychologically syke myself out, its as if when i run, all i can think about it is running.
this i am working on.
but afterwards (and perhaps even during) i was Soooo much more angry at ME than anything else. why am i not in the shape i was 10 months ago? a year? 4 years? why can't i give out as much energy as i want to? why can my legs keep going for miles (ex: The Breast Cancer 3Day) but my windpipe promises to burn off and out if i attempt it?
after i got home, A called just as i got out of the shower (she's been in norcal for the weekend at a tourney) and, following trend, i found myself on the verge of *making fun of myself* for not having any endurance whatsoever.
note to people who dont understand the significance of this: 1. this is my significant other, whom i trust with everything. 2. we, as humans, attempt to forego ridicule by others by making fun of ourselves before they can.
point: i actually cared that someone, even A, would think *something,* anything, about my not being able to physically excell.
and my friends? i dont regularly give a shit about anything *anyone* thinks.
so this is my question, philosophical or otherwise... if i cared, do you? does the majority of hte world? why are we so hard on ourselves. how can i, personally, be held accountable for my physical capabilities or the extent of my endurance??
thats like being held accountable, negatively, for the fact that i have blonde hair. or have freckles.
i mean what the fuck?
so. resolution: im not going to let it happen again. there is no helping, at this point, how out of shape my body is and how unhealthy that makes it feel. but as she pointed out last night, A cares about as much about my physical limitations as i *should* care -- not at all.
so health concerns and ambitions aside, im done with it.
im going running. and i will huff and puff all i want. rar.