Giving Up

Yesterday was rather an ugly day at work.  I mean, no one was mean to me or anything, just a hugehuge project with an extremely tight deadline was dropped in my lap, and I literally had to push aside every other urgent thing in front of me to manage someone else's project.  I wish I could say I did it with good grace.  On the outside, I was the consummate professional.  On the inside, I was shrieking in a tone only bats could hear.

It did not help matters that I was unable to eat anything until about 4:30.  I was positively growly.

I did leave the office at 5:30 and head over to my running class.  Here was my state of mind:

Dang it, MK won't be there, and Steph won't be there, and all the really FAST runners WILL be there and I missed last week because of the business trip and DAMN IT THERE IS THAT#$%^&&*^ CONTROL BURN and this sucks and I do not want to be here and I just can't do this and I am all alone and look stupid and I can't just give up and so (Oh, there is Jane, I need to remember to tell her about progress on that project and oh, yeah, I forgot to call Mr. Big, and dang it, I forgot 1234567 different things, and I just want to go home.)  I just can't do this tonight.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that whether I think I can or think I can't, I'm right.  Pride alone kept me at the track.  I could not go back and tell MK I showed up and then left before even trying.

So, we went through the warm-ups, and my lungs felt constricted just during that.  A sense of dread began to fill my chest as the first set started.  I was wheezing less than a minute into into it.

And I gave up right then.  Oh, I still "tried" two more sets, each one worse than the one before.  I simply could not catch my breath.  I was angry and ashamed -I had done a much harder workout on my own just on Sunday!  I walked the 4th set and the coach came up to me, and I just looked at him and said, "I'm done.  I'm out."  He said, "Hey, you just want to walk around the track, that's cool!"

I could feel the tears welling up, and I said, "Nope, I"m done, I'll see you Thursday at Buffalo Park."  He nodded and ran up to join the real runners.

I grabbed my stuff and the tears started immediately.  When I got to my car, I started sobbing -a big openmouthed ugly cry.  I kept that up through the drive home, letting Roxy out, curling up in bed and just could not stop.  I did not know I had it in me to cry for a whole hour nonstop.  Then I cried off and on for the rest of the evening.  I felt like every time I take two steps forward, I slide three steps back.

I don't know what I could have done differently.  I was wired when I got there, which never helps, and feeling weird and alone, but none of those are things I can do much about.  My job is high pressure and I'm not good at running yet.  Usually getting all sweaty makes me feel better.

But when my lungs refuse to cooperate, all I can do is... nothing.