Divine 9? Not really.

Some days I find myself needing to run. It is a physical need to escape all of the shrapnel that piles up in my messy messy life.

So today I RAN. Out the door, down the street and into the misty, damp dark, running and trying to leave the mess behind me. I lengthened my strides, leaned into my run, pushing myself forward faster and harder. By the Causeway, the cold rain mixed with sleet and drove like pinpricks into the side of my face and neck. I found something heavy and rock-like, music with guitar and heavy drum to suit my mood, and leaned harder into the wind and rain, driving myself forward against the elements. By the edge of the causeway, I was soaked, and ready to go again. The second loop found rain driving at me, water streaming down my cheeks and pooling in my collarbones before being whipped into my collar, water dripping off my nose and the bow of my upper lip.

Finishing the second loop, I met another runner, who noted the weather wasn't exactly ideal for running. What? Some days this is what I need. To run. To just RUN.

It doesn't leave me less grumpy; it doesn't put me in a better mood. Today it doesn't do a damned thing, other than make me feel resigned. I suppose we can't run from ourselves, and we can't run from the way that we feel. Or at the very least, I can't. But it helps sometimes to go out into the dark cold night, and just FIGHT it. Tonight's miles, which leave me typing here cold and numb, weren't mine, but the next ones....those belong to me. And I'm kind of planning to kick the shit out of them, messy me or no.