Some days I feel crazy. I don’t think I think clearly on these days.
I feel restless, more than anything. Like I have a scream within me, a current of energy flowing inside, quietly threatening to make itself known tangibly.
At the same time, I feel blank. I feel like I’m staring out from blankness, emptiness. It feels like I’m wandering, like I’m searching for something. Not a fervent search. More of a listless floating, hands dangling, yet slightly reaching out to feel something, anything.
Days like this, I usually find myself taking the long way on the freeway to the beach. I don’t always need to get out of the car. Just speeding down the side of the water, seeing the light of the moon in the corner of my eye is enough.
Sometimes if I’m out there early enough, I park and get out, walk the pier or head down to the water. If I walk the pier, I always get tempted by the milkshakes at Ruby’s at the end of the pier. If I go down to the sand, I sit or stand staring out at the water. It’s there that I feel the closest to God, the universe, myself. I feel humbled, I feel like I can let go of restlessness, as if it’s come and found home.
Today, I didn’t do any of those. I had an appointment at the gym with the pool and bike. The training plan was just swim and bike. But I knew I had way more pent up energy than could be resolved with swim and bike. I hopped on the treadmill and impatiently tapped the speed control. I wanted to impose the craziness I felt inside on my body. It was the one thing I could control.
Everything faded. The music, the people around me, the sweat. In that moment, I knew I had what I needed. I felt something beast arise within.
I’m not sure if I can explain it but it feels like I’m out of control, but in complete control. I know the wildness I feel and I give myself space to feel all of it. I know I have to explain none of it to anyone. I know I’ll be okay and I just need to trust.
I feel my legs tiring, my arms feeling drained. I keep going because I want to be dead tired. I want to lose the restlessness. I reach a pace that I’ve never reached on a treadmill before. When I hit 20 minutes, I finish the run and head to the bike.
It’s the same – almost mindless yet focused movement and purpose. Sweat drips onto the bike, the floor. I wonder what I look like – as crazy as I feel inside? I know I look unapproachable. And on this kind of day, that’s okay. I know I look bitchy. That’s okay. I get to have this kind of day.
As I head into my swim, I’m ready for more. I really want to be tired. Each stroke hurts but less and less with each one. I’m pulling strong, daring myself to complain when the pain is so good.
Finally, I’m done.
There doesn’t need to be some sort of understanding where I am, what I’m going through, who, what, when, where, how.
Everything is part of being human.