Take Four

So. It looks like I will most likely be having a fourth surgery on my left foot. I called several doctors at HSS today and waiting for them to get back to me. Apparently I have two broken screws in my foot and "post-surgical changes." Awesome. I cannot even imagine what this corrective surgery will entail, or the subsequent pain and recovery. Not only will it be a repair of the bunion that has recurred, but taking out the screws and somehow fixing the mess that is my foot. At this point, I just hope I have a toe/foot left at the end of all this. I have a feeling this is probably the end of my running days. So much for doing soccer this fall.

Writing is going well. Exhausting. Freelancing is kind of like a never-ending race, because you're constantly looking for another project because you don't know when you'll need it. Add looking for a full-time job, and it's stress city. But that's pretty much the theme for my generation right now, I think.
Studying for doula training (Intuitive Doula) is going well. I've been working on the first Module and reading the books, and I'm pretty excited.

I just read Belzhar, by Meg Wolitzer. It comes out in September, and though it's categorized as Young Adult, I think it stands on its own as simply a novel for adults, too. I think it's one of my favorite books ever. Magical realism, Sylvia Plath, self-discovery, writing - it has it all, and it's done well.
FINALLY finished Infinite Jest. All 1079 pages of it. I'm not sure I can explain how I liked it, but the writing was excellent, and DFW was truly talented and a genius. Who knows what he would have done as the years go by.

faking it until I'm making it - again.

For as long as I can remember, I've laid my clothes out for the next day, the night before. It saves time in the morning, and in my half-sleep daze, I can just pull whatever on. For some reason, tomorrow I have the urge to wear the craziest thing -- black Under Armour nylon exercise pants, aqua Nike dri-fit v-neck, and my black Ironman thin lycra zip up that says "140.6 Miles of Awesome" on the back. That was my goal. I wanted to do a 70.3 before my 35th birthday. Maybe that's still possible, I don't know. Last year I let my Triathlete and Runner's World subscriptions expire. I just didn't have the time. I'm glad I did. Ever since the beginning of these tremors, I haven't picked up either of those magazines. No, that's a lie. I did flip through a Triathlete, and it made me too sad. I think getting out of the city will help. Once I'm back in Chapel Hill, I can go back to the Wellness Center, start swimming, biking, and walking again, and build my strength up in a place that is familiar and medically safe.

Right now, I feel like a phony even putting on a sports bra. It's hard to believe, to remember those days where I would voluntarily wake up at 4:30am, go swim laps, get dressed for the day, go to A&P lab, do freelance work, then go to class. I remember every day and night, that feeling of calm that swept over me the minute I entered the Wellness Center. Like I belonged. The smell of chlorine and sweat and muscle cream. I remember the first time hearing my knees crackle as I walked down my steps. I had to buy joint salve, the tingly kind. No one warned me that I shouldn't shave before I put it on. So not only did I smell like a pine foresty old man, but my knee areas were pretty much on fire that first night I used it.

I wore my rubber Ironman watch 24/7 - no need to take it off. My RoadID was right above it. The constant chlorine smell of my hair was comforting. Slowly, I forged tentative friendships with older people at the gym who were also in the tri club. They helped draw me out of my shyness. I had a place there.

All this is to say that wearing simple nylon sportswear is like, a big deal for me for some reason. I haven't worn any really, since the tremors started. But I miss the girl who did. I miss the girl who went running in the woods with her running group twice a week. I miss the girl who watched old Kona Ironman specials and got chills every single time. I miss the girl who, even when exercising or doing sports, coordinated her Nike outfits and preferred running skirts to shorts. I miss the sound of ground and leaves crunching under my feet as I run on the trails. I miss my running coach, Mimi, who made me think I was a runner. I miss the girl who actually, seriously considered entering the Kona lottery but didn't have the extra money to spare to sign up. I think she's still in there. I just have to find her and get her stronger. No, I know she's still in there. Because I haven't yet heard the words shouted over the loudspeaker, "Jaime, YOU are an Ironman!" But I will. If I have to crawl to and across the finish line like Julie Moss did in 1982, I will.

take these broken wings and learn to fly.

I just heard the song "Blackbird" by the Beatles for the first time today, and it sent a shiver down my spine. It is such a simple, beautiful song.

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise...."

How many of us patch up our wings and fly to our next destination? Some people never mend their wings and get stuck, and miss out on life. Others force their wings to heal too fast and end up reinjured and hurt. And yet others go slowly and let themselves be helped and cared for, and eventually fly off on the rest of their journey.

I like to think that I am one of those who flies on with my journey.