I get that sinking feeling

When I think that maybe my body just wasn't cut out for running marathons. And that leads to the sinking feeling that maybe my body isn't cut out for running of any kind. And that leads me to so many sinking feelings that I don't know where to begin. They leap out of nowhere-the thoughts that build one upon another, giant waves crashing over me threatening to bury me deep in the sea of my own neurosis. Yes, I know there's not a lot of rational thinking going on here. What there is though it a lot of bailing of the water that leaps over the unprotected sides of my life: the weak sides that have come to rely on running to sustain me, to relieve my stress, to provide my entertainment, my exercise, my release, my passion, but why has running become me? Oh, that is the real sinking feeling-realizing that without running I fall into a pit of misery and boredom. I am more than a runner. I am a lover of food, the arts, wine, animals and nature. I am a writer. I am a survivor of more than just a strained hip flexor muscle for god's sake.

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