Suck it up and RUN
RUN, little girl!
My lungs burn as if I’ve inhaled napalm. Pain ignites my nerves with an intense throbbing, punishing me for every step I make. This hurts!
The voice of Resistance screams in my head for me to stop and give in to the pint of Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer. Stop. Why not sit in your comfy chair, and rot away in front of the computer? You’ve been doing that for a year already. Why not do that again for today? Just for today?
My house is only a block away. The Resistance compromises. “What if you walked? Let’s not go another lap. You did enough already. You could go home, and that extra ten minutes you save could be used to do something productive – like your schoolwork.”
The ninja in me screams in my ear. “RUN, YOU LAZY, OUT-OF-SHAPE DESK POTATO. RUN!” The voice reminds me of the little me – the one with the back aches who feels so tired every day. She gets winded walking up two flights of stairs, and last week’s bag of pita chips sent her into such a diabetic shock that she was shaking and sick for hours afterwards.
One day, she will have a hunchback like her grandmother. Her bones will become weak, her muscles will atrophy, and she will become crippled, frail, and old. Without proper blood circulation and oxygen to her brain, she will deteriorate into a dim-witted thing, sitting in front of the computer screen, chortling at pictures of funny cats while she decomposed in her sorrows because she was not strong enough to defeat the Resistance. People will look at the tiny shriveled old lady and pity the shadow of the woman that she once was.
I let this fear take over me and run.
I run away from what I am and from what I am afraid of becoming.
I finish my two miles and nearly collapse in a hot mess at foot of my stairs. Today, I slapped my Resistance in the face and said, “SUCK IT, BITCH.”
The Resistance looks at me with her pretty dimpled smile and a merry twinkle in her eye. She laughs and replies, “That’s okay. Tomorrow, you’ll have to face me again.”