Breakthrough

For the past week or so, I’ve been operating under a cloud.  Not a full-fledged depression, and not a big specific problem that I can identify.  Just a gnawing kind of anxiety, even dread.  It takes the joy out of my walks, and makes everyday problems loom large.  I asked myself:  has my body gotten used to five miles a day, and no longer responds as positively?  Is it chemical?

Yesterday I decided I’d had enough. I brought my shoes and a long-sleeved t-shirt to work, and left the office around 11:30.  It was misting, and I wavered for a moment – the last thing I needed was to get caught in a downpour miles from the office – but decided to forge ahead. I went to Lady Bird Lake, where I walked my usual route, but in the opposite direction.

For most of it, the sun remained hidden, keeping things cool; on the few occasions when it made an appearance, it warmed considerably.  I took full advantage of my Banks-less state and walked hard, harder than I have in a long time.  When I stopped for water, it was two gulps only and then back on the trail.  I don’t remember thinking about much.  When I’d feel myself slowing to the point that I was comfortable, I’d ratchet it up again, passing those in front of me, or keeping pace with a figure in the distance who was really motoring.  I was aware of an almost constant ache in my thighs that comes when I’m really pushing myself.

As I approached the 0 mile mark, I found a couple of stones and left them at the base of the Stevie Ray Vaughn statue.  I got this idea from Kristin Armstrong, one of my favorite bloggers. A marathon runner, she places stones to symbolize the leaving behind of something, and returning home with a lighter load.

I got back to the office sweaty and panting, but I didn’t care.  Something had been left behind, something unidentified but oppressive. I’d like to think it now resides in those stones.