The Torture of Prometheus

Yesterday I had an interesting experience running. I am training for a half marathon and I haven't been out for two weeks while I struggled with a chest cold. Feeling better but not having quite shaken off the cough, I headed out for a 10 mile run. I started too fast. Under 9 minute miles which was always going to be unsustainable for 10 miles even when I am in peak condition. Come mile 6 I had slowed right down to nearly 10 minute miles. By mile 7 I was walking.

I kept telling myself to go steady but rushing at things too fast has always been my problem. I want to tackle everything at speed. And the important things never happen quickly. Like falling in love.

I fell in love in August 2015 with a man who is still in my life. I fell hard and I fell fast. Too fast for him. By December 2015 he had let me go declaring that he could not love me in the way I wanted. I was bereft. I have spent the last 18 months pining for him.

I feel like Prometheus. Chained to a rock having my liver eaten by an eagle and waking each morning regenerated only for it to happen again. Having him in my life is torture. Sometimes I feel it is too much for me to bear. But what is the alternative? Lose him from my life forever? That would be worse. Not much worse. But worse.

Right now I am walking. Slowly, slowly. Steady, steady. Don't fall. I keep whispering to myself. Maybe he will never love me in the way I love him. But undeniably here there is a valuable lesson for me to learn. And I must learn it one step at a time.


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