Humpty Dumpty

When I ran the Boston Half Marathon last October, the temperature was in the 80s. In the last 400 meters, I thought I was going to vomit. I wanted to stop there and then and give up. But the end was quite literally in sight, so I sucked it up and kept going.

If I was Humpty Dumpty, this is Wall Day. We all do dumb things sometimes, like an egg choosing to sit on a high wall. Maybe he was suffering long term shame and embarassment like Kal-El Cage, Pilot Inspektor Lee or Sage Moonblood Stallone. Maybe he jumped. Maybe he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And maybe he was pushed. All I know is he wasn't hard-boiled, and he did not survive.

I cannot tell you how long these 49 days have been. We all have ups and downs, but the downs have been really low. This one I saw coming. I stood there like a deer and headlights from the moment I heard the car start. I waited for the car to warm-up, I waited for it to get up to speed, I adjusted myself to be center on my mark -- for the Love of God, I think I may have paid for the gas -- and then I stood there and let it hit me, staring the driver squarely in the eye.

But I didn't feel it. I'm just numb. You can only be hit so many times (figuratively or literally) before you just don't feel it anymore. There are no tears left to cry. You just pack up your toys and go home. Exhausted.

Am I defeated? Was it the driver's fault or mine? I don't think there was a winner. Just survivors. Surviving is not the new winning. Charlie Sheen has left the building.