Anger and running …
… are actually a good match for me.
I don’t get angry often. I like to laugh things off, and keep the peace, generally. I actually don’t recognize anger often. I think I’m frustrated, I’m hurt, I’m disappointed etc. I grew up as the “good girl” in a house of crazy boys, and being angry was not ever on my agenda.
Today, I got angry about a situation in which I feel I have little control, and I’ve done every honest and upfront thing I can to try and gain some understanding of the other party.
So, I went for a run. A late night run with my (somewhat confused) little dog. I left my Forerunner behind, but I should’ve taken it, because I kicked butt. I ran what I know was over 4k, and let’s just say, I was panting harder than the confused dog.
At the end of the run, I collapsed on a large rock (that doesn’t sound all that comfortable, now does it?) that sits, waiting for me, on my street. And I cried a bit, truth be told.
And I feel about 100% better. What will be, will be. I can only be me.