This morning I listened to Muse's Madness ***on repeat, tears stinging my eyes as I plugged away on the elliptical. Madness. The song I began each of my training runs with all spring.
That song, the intensity, the feeling, the passion resonated with me. Every mile a victory. Desire answered. Pounding that pavement I felt alive. Perhaps it was the mix of endorphins and accomplishment. The drive to succeed, the surprise that I could. Each morning I woke up with sore hamstrings I was elated. The pain proof that I would do whatever it took. The madness of running 11 miles on a Saturday morning. The bad-ass feeling that I was strong. I found the fact that I could outrun 90% of the population strangely satisfying.
Madness. The music raw and emotional, it pushed me physically while fueling a passion. Like a new lover, I thought of it all the time. I woke up ready to embrace my love and went to bed planning my next day's rendezvous . I needed that madness in my life. I still do.
But now stripped of my outlet I feel stifled. Days when I just need to clear my head I feel trapped. I feel sadly devoid of passion, almost apathetic. It could be that I just need to find inspiration elsewhere, but like a musician without his instrument, I am fumbling. It could be that turning 39 has contributed to the "what am I doing?" angst. Running was powerful for me. It felt somehow important, and I am wondering what else I can do that might be notable. Never one to shrink in the shadows of other's success I have always wanted to be great, to shine, to be....special.
So as I sat moving nowhere in that God-awful gym, I felt mild, average and defeated. The song mocking me for what I once was or what I might have been. Madness. The climax of of a musician belting "I need your love." I want to feel that way again. Somehow. Someway. Some sort of madness....
***do click the link. The song is worth it.