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The morning writing session went great, but the afternoon session not so much. My head went very ugly. So ugly, that I knew I was no longer able to see the writing clearly. I’ve learned that when one of those dark moods descends you just throw in the towel for awhile. Sometimes just a little bit of change and the mood lightens, but today’s mood had the taste of something long and bitter. I knew that just an ordinary break wouldn’t do it, so I hit the weight room. I was planning to lift weights today anyway.

I’d forgotten that I enjoyed lifting weights. Jon hates it. So the new deal is that I get to lift weights and he doesn’t have to. I find weights peaceful. You just have to concentrate on your movements, your own body, lifting the weight. It’s simple, mechanical, and it does not use the same part of my brain that the writing uses. Perfect.

But today, even weights couldn’t kill the bad mood. So added some crunches to begin the ab work I’d been promising myself. When the mood remained even after that, I finally turned to Carri and said, "I need to punch something." Among many useful talents, she has a background in martial arts, so she found me something she could hold, and I could hit, and not risk my hands; too much. There’s always a little risk to hitting something, but I needed something more physical than anything I’d done yet today, so, punching drills.  I hadn’t done any of them in years. Judo was the martial art that I stayed in longest, but funny how a horse stance is a horse stance, and those long ago years of Tae-Kwon-Do, karate, and aikido, had left me with some body memory.  My ankle keeps me from doing any foot work, but a shallow horse stance I could manage, and I did punching drills. I hit the target until the flat of my fists was red, and my hands began to hurt. Not just sting, but hurt. Carri had made me promise I’d call it if it actually hurt-hurt. She didn’t want me injuring my hands. That would so play hell with the typing speed. So, good to my word, I stopped in time. I’m typing just fine as I write this, but the drill felt good. I needed something physical to beat the mood into, or out of; it’s the kind of mood if you aren’t paying attention and if you are so inclined that you find a way to get into a fight, just so you can have it. I’ve never done that, but I do sympathize with the mood. I’ll have to get some gloves of some kind if I do it often, or wrap my hands, something to protect them.

I am going to have to go back to my doctor and have her look at my ankle again. I’ll wait until after SKIN TRADE comes out, but I may not be able to put the surgery off until next year, as I’d hoped. I’m in pain as I write this, and I’m having to fight not to limp by the end of day. There are days when it takes me five different types of shoes before I find one that doesn’t hurt the first few steps. Boots that I wore with impunity a few weeks ago, hurt. I can only wear flats for a day, then I have to do heels so it shortens the tendon, which is what they’ll do with surgery eventually. Shorten it, and reattach it properly. What I needed today was a run, or at least a jog, but my doctor tells me that even after surgery that won’t be happening. In an emergency I could run, but as a form of exercise, never again. Funny, I hated to run, but knowing it’s lost to me makes me miss it. I guess that’s part of the bad mood. Yeah, pain will eventually wear you down. It never occurred to me until this moment that I could be in enough pain to need something stronger than tylenol. Someday’s I’m just a little slow on putting the pieces together. Guess, I’ll be calling my doctor tomorrow and seeing when I can get in and see if I’ve done something new to the same ankle, or if the same problem has simply worsened.