Filling the Glass

I feel like I'm in an endless transition, and some days I handle it better than others. On my glass-half-empty days, all I can do is think about all the things I've lost, however temporarily.

I miss losing weight.
I miss food. Wanting it and cooking it. Enjoying it.
I miss feeling hungry. Not dizzy, not nauseous. Just. Plain. Hungry.
I miss my clothes.
I miss working up a sweat.
I miss needing sunscreen.
I miss having a plan.
I miss breathing hard and working hard and going all out.
I miss needing to wash a big pile of skanky, sweat-stained gear.
I miss being proud of what I've accomplished.
I miss smelling like a lake and being proud of what that means for me.
I miss the anticipation of a big workout, or a bigger race.
I miss my bike.
I miss icy bottles of water after hot runs.
I miss pushing myself.
I miss feeling sexy.
I miss feeling strong.

There are days when missing my life overwhelms me and I can't help but cry. Until a few days ago I had nothing but a pudgy belly, nausea and maybe a migraine to show for it.

But a few days ago somebody decided it was time to speak up.

So now my glass-half-empty days aren't so empty. Because it's hard to dwell on temporary losses when there's a teeny tiny soul poking insistent reminders of things to come.

Now, when I miss epic training swims across scary lakes, I think about the tiny hands pressing so gently from within, and what it will be like so seem them splashing joyfully in the water.

Now, when I miss my bike, I think about the little feet kicking me so vigorously and what it will be like to teach them to peddle their own.

Now, when I miss my runs, I think about the little legs poking and stretching, seeking room to grow, and what it will be like to chase their first steps.

I think about these things and it fills me up. It takes away the emptiness of my temporary hiatus from life and restores my faith that the future holds wonderful things.