Stormy skies

The forecast calls for storms, storms, I am afraid, of the family drama variety.

A sprinkling of phone calls already started this week, triggering feelings of frustration, guilt, sadness and the general bewilderment that seem to affect many in my family at times of rising tension.

Not really knowing what to do, not really being in a position to do much and not really knowing how to process all of it, left me in a bit of a mess. So what should I do? Go running of course.

Actually, lacing up my shoes and heading out the door has been therapeutic. In addition to working out the kinks in my tightened muscles and joints, a few miles on the road also helps sort out the jumble in my head.

I must be quite a sight, running down the road, mumbling under my breath and occasionally letting a cathartic “WTF?!” outburst escape from my lips to no one in particular.

Haven’t really been logging any massive mileage, just a three-miler, a four-miler and what was supposed to be a three-miler this morning that somehow got an extra mile tacked on to it. This was supposed to be a recovery week anyway. Saturday calls for 8 miles.

It is strangely comforting to see a training schedule that provides such orderly direction, and that I am managing to follow along with relative discipline.

I awoke this morning to real storms, storms of the rain and a smattering of thunder variety. By the time I got out the door, however, the skies had calmed a little. I was treated to a few drops along the way, and a very brief burst of a downpour, but otherwise the storm behaved itself while I was on the road.

If only my family drama storm could pass by as smoothly.