A Game of Mercy

So here I am 6:04am; even the prospect of this morning's cardio divides my mind. Shannon is down the hall with "the cousins" and I debate leaving these two young ones--even though they won't wake up; even though my sister is just steps away; like the devil is always whispering how remiss I am under his breath. But, they are so sound asleep; so safe here together; so likely to understand that my iPod , Nikes, and I will be back long before Spongebob is over. Rheumatology sets term limits in this campaign; even so I am probably sealing the deal for my eventual hip replacement. I can't help it though. I need this workout. Because 6 am at the beach, with the tide underscoring my playlist, is a day too sacred not to unleash your soul.

For once I am glad that Josh's "Show me what you've got" is just a memory today. What I've got on the outside is so paltry compared to the inside. Still, I endeavor to apply my training. There is a negotiation that never stops in my head. A tug of war between what I want to do and what I should do. There are days I trade my adrenaline futures like Wall Street commodities. But, I give conservative a shot today.. I walk for a long time, all the way to the lighthouse coaxing my joints like reluctant children as if to say, "Please come with me--it'll be so much fun..." They are full of spite, though not without provocation. They remind me of all the times I beat them up back when I had the upper hand. They enjoy a game of "mercy" at my expense. You see, deep down they know, and force me to admit, that there is still a trace of poison in the miracle I am living. A thing that says "a walk is not enough, there are 70 year olds flying by me with their cocker spaniels. And, here I am pushing through this ridiculous swollen ankle and ever tightening hamstrings, and the ache in the good leg. You pathetic girl...you are still the same glutton for punishment you ever were..."

And I almost fall into this pit AGAIN but an angel comes and sits on my shoulder and says "Today we will climb out of this cesspool and leave a ladder behind for anyone who comes after us." Instantly I'm done with pity. I run the 54 stairs up to the lovely room at the Inn and check on my sleepyheads who are still crashed on the king size bed. I grab my coffee , a notebook and pen and climb high into the lifeguard chair hours before they will need to take this post. Each in our own way searching for drowning victims. I write and write and write; lighting a candle in my cathedral.