there was a time before i knew what time it was all the time. before i had a fitbit and before i had moving calculations in my head. before i knew that blueberries are 85 calories and that i can burn over 700 calories in under six miles. before my hand went to my chest to feel new bones before i had goals and every day was just a day and 2am was still early enough. when every night i braced myself and there was still sometimes a good time between the madness.
i felt prettier when i was uglier because drunk people will tell you you’re pretty when you’ve got lipstick on.
because these hormones are making my chin break out and my body still isn’t functioning properly
in the itchy morning when the dry mouth was too bad for more sleep there was a second of feeling skinny. a ‘sexy hangover’ i called it. when you’re still a little buzzed but mostly depleted of water and in the moments before i felt the headache shame and regret i felt beautiful
there used to be more time because i had no bedtime and no time was accounted for and there was so much free time. there was certainly a time before i had apps and before i tracked everything and before i knew my heartbeat resting and exerted.
there was never alone time because i couldn’t stand alone time, and now i dont have any because there is no down time.
marathon training fills my schedule to the brim and there is no time for anything but track where i am today on the schedule and where i will be next week and the next. because i know what my workout will be three weeks from tomorrow, and because spring swim classes and summer training is just around the corner.
the clock pulls me closer to where i want to be and i can get farther away from everything i’m ready to lose.
marseille is 5 weeks away. i am closer to happy and farther and farther from a year ago, when everything was so hard.