killer basketball

Just read that Lance Armstrong came clean to Oprah about blood doping.
He fiercely denied it for 10 years.
I hope he feels peace now.
In my head I can hear all the voices shreak,
"How dare he!  How could he lie to everyone like that!  How ought to be ashamed of himself!"
I'm sure he is ashamed.

I know exactly how he could do it.
I have wanted something so bad, that I warped my own reality to keep it.
It rolled and gained and grew bigger than me until the only thing left was to run - hope I didn't get crushed.
It seemed insane and pointless to stop, turn and face the dense mass I'd created.
I'm so small and it is so big.  I can't deal with this now.
I'd tell myself,
"Just today.  You just have to do this today.  Just drink a bit to take the edge off.  Just one more pill.  For the anxiety.  Just no food today.  Just coffee today.  Just one more time, and then tomorrow...."
Justify.

Funny how the same mantra which feeds addiction also kills it.

I remember when all of that stuff was in the news about him.
I didn't want to believe it.
They stripped him of his titles and it made me mad.
I couldn't understand why I felt defensive for a person I didn't know.

I still catch myself running.
But when I turn, the chasing mass is the size of a basketball.
It thuds at my feet when I stop to face it.
I pick it up.
Brush the dust, and discover it to be the same ol' basketball.
I smile at the game.  I don't have to play it.
I walk back to what I was doing before the basketball spooked me.
And as I walk, I look up to the sky and say thank you behind my forehead.
I say thank you in my chest, and thank you in my stomach.
Out and down my legs where I find my feet in their rhythm.  They play their one-note song.
It has been with me always, and when I hear it, I am home.  There is nowhere I must run to.

I found my image on this blog.  I was impressed with it.  and I agree.
http://www.thenakedmonk.com/2012/09/03/the-trouble-with-mindfulness