The Garbage Can

There are so many things in life we take for granted…..

I’m big
I’m fat
I’m brown
I’m shaped like a box
I stink
I don’t even have a name, just a number

Who could love me?
Or even like me?

People trash talk me
They don’t think I have feelings
They don’t think about what they put in me
What they feed me
They use me many times a day
Without even thinking about what they’re doing
Then they take me out once (or maybe twice) a week

They don’t pay attention when I’m full or overflowing
They just shove more in me
They just don’t care
They don’t think twice about me unless i don’t do what they want

No one posts pictures of me
No one talks to friends about our relationship
No one is proud of me or what I do
I’m just there
They don’t care
They shove me behind a wall
Only to be seen when it’s convenient

Don’t you know I impact the environment?
I may be just one thing, but together we are many
You think I’m helping you remove your trash
Do you even know where I send it?
Do you think about what you discard?
What you simply throw away?
What’s the effect of setting me out 52 times every year?
Do you think of others as you think of me?

When you lose me, will you then see my value?
I wonder
You’ve taken me for granted
But what would your life be like without me?

My Captivity

 I laugh when I think of the past 4 months as prison or captivity. Why? Because the next thought is about Warden Paul. That thought always makes me laugh with funny remembrances.

Anyway, I look at the time from 1 November 2022 to late January/early February as imprisonment. To me that means I was denied the opportunity to do what I liked.

From November 1st through December I proved the idiocy of the phrase “doctor, heal thyself” and proved the accuracy of “the doctor who treats himself has a fool for a doctor”.

I was pretty sure I had a stress fracture in my heel. I couldn’t put any pressure on it. So, I did what I knew they would do if I went to a doctor. I stayed off it. Unfortunately after 6 weeks, the expected improvement hadn’t occurred. By the beginning of January I had had to back out of 3 sets of races. It also put off my training for the heavy duty race schedule I had set for 2023.

I finally made an appointment with ortho but it took forever to get seen and then get an MRI and then seen again. Diagnosis was not a stress fracture but plantar fasciitis. I wasn’t convinced of that as I’d had that before and this felt completely different. But they’re the experts. They referred me for physical therapy, injected my foot but nothing changed. They then sent me to podiatry and fortunately I had a podiatrist who is a runner. He told me I had a nerve entrapment (Baxter’s neuritis) and to come back if things didn’t improve by April.

Physical therapy didn’t help and in fact 10 days ago one of the exercises I did led to a pull in my opposite side hamstring. I didn’t think much of it at that time. But 48 hours later, when i went out for a longer walk, i could hardly walk. I pushed through 14 miles but it was horrible. Two days later I was fortunate enough to get seen in ortho and they injected my knee. That meant another 5 days not being able to do my walking.

Now, I am back to walking and the knee is improved but still has some pain.

The more frustrating part is that my foot is now hurting like normal plantar fasciitis does.

It seems as if i can’t win.

However, as my poem showed, I am coming to terms with just letting go and seeing what happens. I’ve already had to drop from HOTs and am hoping I can make it to Vol State. But, whatever is supposed to be is ok too.

The fact that my feet and legs are involved has caused me to think about whatever message the universe is trying to give to me.

I’ve been examining what walking means to me and have discovered that it’s a very large entanglement of variables, my weight, my wanting to belong, my need to accomplish things, my need to control things and many more. Although complex, this is an important realization for me and one that will keep me busy for a bit. I know I can give more to the world with my writing than I can with my walking and that’s a key consideration. I should be able to do both but if I can’t, i had to find out that it would be “ok”.

I don’t know if any of this makes any sense, but tonight’s message is just to catch you up on the physical situation. Tomorrow I will explain my new book!

The Comma Coma

 The “comma” is putting me into a coma

After you all responded to my poem yesterday, I realized I haven’t been fair to you.

You have been there with me on every other “trip” I’ve taken with all the ups and downs.

Yet I’ve pretty much shut you out of this one. Why? I’m not sure but I think it’s because I felt that sharing it would just be whining.

It wasn’t until this weekend when I surrendered to whatever is going to happen with my lower extremities and my life, that I understood so much good has come from the last 4 1/2 months. I will tell you it feels like two years.

Over the next few days I will try to fill you in. And, of course, it’s easy to scroll past so you don’t lose consciousness.

Speaking of losing consciousness, though, one of the most important things I’ve done in this 4 1/2 months is write my next book. That will be an entire post most likely because things didn’t turn out as I planned them (as happens so often in life). But, although this book won’t be for many people, it has much more important information than “It’s Not About The Miles” but I’ll talk about that another time.

What I’ve been trying to get done is the editing so I can send it to my exceptional proof-reading/publishing team.

It’s become very obvious to me that i never took any English classes even though i thought i did.

If I have to correct one more “missing comma” or “unexpected comma that doesn’t belong here, bozo”, I will be in the inevitable coma.

Resuscitation is only temporary until I get this part finished…ugh!