Ok, I'm no longer numbering the days because it's ever so hard to keep track of them.
Anyway, the temp outside was in the mid 50's to lower 60's when I ran this morning. 3.5 miles, solid pace. I actually feel good about running. Don't enjoy it. Still force myself to do it. But I'm not out there pounding the pavement and pondering how much better I'd feel if a car came off the road, over the grass, between the trees, and plastered me. So, it's getting progressively better. I no longer see getting hit by a car as a favorable alternative to running. Yay!
I ran the route again today that brought me past the "numb" on the footbridge (see day 9 back in October) roadblock. I was wondering about this the other day and proved my suspicion that it's only on 1 side of the roadblock. That is, I can read it on my way out, but not on the way back in.
I mentioned before that numb was, at this point, my goal when running. To feel no pain, no anything really. The first time I noticed that little tag it served somewhat as a reminder. It also served as a reminder of what the kiddos I'm running for get into feeling. They go numb. The abuse in their life becomes part of the background noise and they just go numb to the constant pain and consequently numb to feelings of joy or happiness. Their lives become just... numb.
When it occured to me that "numb" can only be read on the way out and not the way in I began to ponder (I ponder a lot while running... not much else to do, really). The numbness is really temporary. Eventually, I've learned, that the numbness while running gives way to real excitement (I got a taste of that at Bayland the other day--see day 25, also in October). The numbness that gets a runner through the first 3 or 26 miles gives way to actual feeling (allegedly) in the final sprint or last .2 miles in the marathon. There's joy again. There's a feeling of accomplishment. There's pride. There's a sudden rush.
I can't say that's exactly what happens for these kids, but if the Child Advocates do their jobs, the numbness gives way to feeling. It gives way to a feeling of personhood. It gives way to joy, and love, and eventually when a child can look back and see how far they've come from where they were a feeling of true accomplishment. They're no longer victims. They're survivors. They're winners. They're... someone. And that's what constant abuse can take from a child. A sense that they're someone who deserves to feel something. A sense that life doesn't have to be numb.
Please help me support Child Advocates and visit their web site at www.childadvocates.org. Explore, browse around. Check out the volunteer opportunities, the events, and yes, please contribute. Thank you.
