Irritation Flares

There is such a huge, MASSIVE difference between “I’m so irritated because I want/need/can’t stop thinking about a drink,” VS. “I’m so irritated because I want/need/can’t stop thinking about a jog.”

I’ve been pretty occupied the past couple of weeks with work/other recreation and that in conjunction with half-assedly trying to configure a new device to my precise preferences for my workout has meant that I have been well behind where I’d like to be.  Today I finally vowed to do nothing but come home and prep for a run — the weather was too. damn. nice. to skirt spending at least part of the evening outdoors.

Despite mounting frustrations with a device that almost snidely seemed to refuse my attempts at interfacing, I still had to marvel at the fact that this — this — was the source of my irritation.  Not that I was too drunk, or needed a drink and couldn’t get one, or was so hungover the very cells on my skin seemed to bristle.

And furthermore, furthermore! …I don’t want to pick up a drink to cope with emotional responses.  I just have to laugh because all I wanted to do, all afternoon, is sprint & sweat to a bass-drenched soundtrack.

So I finally did.  It was a little rocky with a new phone (these big screens are pretty damn unwieldy, let’s not kid ourselves here), but it still felt great.

The stiffest of shinsplints will 10 out of 10 times be a better grimace than the stiffest of cocktails ever was.




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