As dawn encroaches, my mind groggily awakens as well as my body. My mind is the first onslaught of war I suffer? Do I want to get out of bed and to go to the gym? I've gained over 40 pounds... I really should. Second, is my body. It screams out from the excruciation of yesterday's exercise. 6 miles had been completed, a long and arduous run. The pain is strong but my determination feels stronger but not by much.
When I leave my safe refuge, I am again in the presence of other people milling about the gym in teems. Anxiety fills me. I avoid eyes at the counter as I show my member ID. Next time I will smile more... next time I will make small talk. I do my stretches, drink my pre workout and gaze about me in silent abandon. Sometimes, I watch people interact, wishing I had the courage and self confidence to stride up to one of them and strike up a conversation. The depression that sinks in on me prevents me from doing just that. I choose, instead, to plug in my earphones and listen to the screaming lyrics that is Metallica.
I walk over to the treadmill and soft excitement fills me. Running is my passion. The grueling pain and confidence that I can run far and fast in intervals satisfies the depression, softening it and creating something inside of me unknown.
As each foot hits the tread, my breathing becomes ragged, but I do not hypervenilate. I do not feel anything but the moderate breathing and the burning of my thighs. My mind is focused on the miles not the minutes. An hour passes and I have done 6 miles. Afterwards, my lips remain a straight line, my expression remains the same. I know that it takes time for me to smile after such a great task of mine but it is impossible.
Afterwards, I do ab crunches. I lift. It is not the same as the running passion I have.
When I get home, my mind becomes tangled in a mess as the hours tick by hoping someone will talk to me. Someone will invite me out. No one does and I am feeling alone once more. More lonely than alone at times...
The night comes, and he asks me if I am coming over.
No... my mind says. Get your mind straight first...
"Sure," I tell him.
And I am gone, leaving my house in happiness and in dread.
I wish I can rid myself of this deprecating feeling I have, going to him when he calls.
But when I see him, all the fears and sorrows disappear. The thought that I can have a friend in him and as a lover prevents me from wanting to ever leave this good feeling.
But sometimes, I wonder if there is more to life.