monsters in my head
I thought I should check in here since I haven’t had a post in a few days.
I have nothing significant to report on my rewriting work of the F&S stories other than that I have the opportunity to get it done or get it done right, and I know I must work toward the latter. Why embark on such an effort if I’m not going to do it as well as I can, right?
As for not doing something as well as I can . . .
I’m sure you’re familiar with the expression “the monsters don’t live under your bed, they live in your head.” The little running adventure I will undertake this coming weekend has been partying with the monsters in my head for the last week. I have a low-grade fever of anxiety. I am woefully under trained for this. And the monsters in my head know it. They remind me of this constantly. They laugh and point and jab each other in the ribs, guffawing about my impending disaster.
Actually, I don’t think it will be utter disaster. I don’t expect to run a brilliant race, and I am resigned to the pain that I know will come (just not as soon as mile 4 this time, okay?). I’ll run what I can and walk what I must and swallow far too many tablets of Vitamin I (ibuprofen) and finish, perhaps even upright.
And then I’ll tell you all about it, okay?
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