Around this time of year, I always pull some financial reports on my little tiny company to see how badly I’m doing.  I’m not bothering this year because I don’t need a report to tell me how much the economy has wreaked havoc on my websites, only one of which still exists in its original form.

But, I can do a YTD comparison from last year to this one personally.  So much has changed.

I am not sure I really wrote much about last December, but it was horrible.  It was officially the first Christmas/Holiday season without the kids and the husband and the house.  My rental was freezing cold and every night I’d walk around, turning out the lights, and the camel crickets in their half-frozen state would jump half-heartedly in my direction.  It was just so dark around here, no amount of candlelight or faux Christmas cheer could warm or brighten a room.  Forcing myself to put the tree up or lights outside took huge amounts of energy.  I wanted to hide, but when you have kids, you can’t.  I took one for the team, so to speak, and when the girls weren’t with me at night, I’d unplug everything and wrap up in a blanket to kill the perma-frost in this badly insulated house. 

A bunch of things fell apart in December of 2010.  And for the first time since I first hit the big wall of “I give up” in September of 2009, I hit a newer, bigger wall.  Only this time, I knew a hospital stay wouldn’t fix it. 

I gutted my way through two weeks of holiday hell and cheer.  I stayed with friends, buried myself in books, put on a happy face in front of the girls, and waited for whatever this particular brand of crap was to go away. 

There are no words to explain how bad those few weeks were.  I gave up, but held on because I had to.  I had a dog to feed, kids to love, bills to pay. I did not want to be here and I did not want to feel anything - good or bad - ever again.  Normally so in touch with my feelings, I shut down completely and went numb. If someone had asked me to do a self-portrait then, it would have been a painting of a bag of potatoes in a dark cellar.  I couldn’t move. 

It finally lifted, but not until January. 

On December 31st, I ran the Resolution Run.  I needed to prove some things to myself, namely that I still existed in a form strong enough to complete something/anything.  Someone I knew from the running community asked me if I was running it.  This was after I sent out a group text to everyone I knew (including him) going through divorce, wishing them the best.  I said yes.  We decided to meet up there, run the race and have drinks after.  It was New Year’s Eve, after all, and both of us were coming off a pretty crappy year.  Divorce, kids, financial pressures:  we had been through the wringer, in our separate hells. 

Turns out that my “date” for the race became my date for the year.  Running Boy made me laugh that night, and it felt so foreign that it hurt to do it. My ribs weren’t used to expanding and my lungs were still asleep. I found myself talking, the words easier to string together.  I remembered that I had a brain, and a heart, and that I too could make others laugh. 

We were slow in our movements.  Introducing kids took a while, as it should.  Our relationship was complex by its nature.  We both have kids, work, family stuff and commitments.  Because of the complexity, we did everything tentatively.  I didn’t introduce him to any of my friends except those in the running community who already knew him.  He didn’t talk about me much, either.  I know that on my end, I’d been burned so badly by others I had no desire to share anything about my personal life with anyone. 

Most notably, for the first time in any relationship, I had no desire to drag up all my crap and throw it in his face in the name of honesty.  Many experiences have made me who I am today, for better or worse, but I didn’t have the need for him to hear, understand, accept, and look at all of the bad things I’ve said or done.  Important details have emerged when they are needed, but neither of us spent much time dissecting the past.  He’d done a lot of his post-marital legwork and I’d analyzed myself to hell and back.  It was time for me to stop thinking about living life and start doing it. 

So we did. 

In one year, I did more traveling than I’d done in 10.  In January, we took a day and attempted to visit “numerous” wineries to the west of Richmond.  We made it to exactly one because someone (not me) had a few too many samples.  We ended up spending the afternoon with the winery owners, sitting in a beautiful log cabin overlooking the mountains. 

In February we did the Six in the Sticks Chili Run with many of our friends and celebrated a hellish trail run with bandages and coffee and chili. 

In March, we headed off first to Williamsburg for a lovely stay at a B&B, then to Virginia Beach for the Shamrock half marathon after running the Shamrock Shuffle earlier in the month.  Shamrock weekend was legendary, in many ways - friends, togetherness, a great race, beautiful weather, ocean, down time. 

April meant running the Monument Avenue 10K with more good friends, Easter and egg hunts with our kids together, and family dinners. 

We went Andrea and Joe’s wedding - a fabulous experience - combined with another B&B and long run through new territory in southern Virginia.  A fishing expedition at my friend Mary’s house with all 4 kids catching their first live fish.  Run Like a Girl in Charlotte, where Susan and Eddie met him for the first time.  My first Mud Run with him.  Memorial Day weekend with the Greens and part of his family at the Eastern Shore.  Trail runs with Theresa, Prissie, Gina and whoever else felt up to it.  Tubing with Trevor at Dan and Nicole’s - the two of us accepting ridicule for renting the “couples tube” (a figure 8-style inflatable so we could both ride together).  A weekend getaway mid-summer to Waynesboro.  Barbecue and Folk Music festivals in Galax and plenty of runs on the New River Trail, while learning to appreciate Southwest Virginia.  Another weekend trip to Wintergreen with more hiking and running.  Visits to the Children’s Museum with all 4 of the kids, managing not to lose any of them.  Date nights at Sushi-O, taking his daughter to get her first salon mani and pedi, reading to his son while trying to make train sounds without sounding like a psycho.  Hay rides and pumpkin patches.  A weekend in DC with good friends and the Army 10-miler.  Seeing Todd’s band play out for the first time in a long while.  Museums and art galleries (my choice), offset by his need to “mantique” (read: look at junk he doesn’t need).  Thanksgiving together. 

In a year, my life completely changed.  I got a job - one that I like, one that challenges me.  I met someone who complements me in many ways while still allowing me the freedom to stay me.  He’s strong and opinionated; he’s soft and kind; he’s 100% male but has an affectionate side that has warmed even the coldest of hearts in my life.  While it’s been difficult, and the kids have struggled to accept his position in my life, 12 months later we’re doing a whole lot better. 

I think back to the utter hopelessness I felt last year at this time, the dread of seeing my divorce finalized, the sheer emptiness I felt when I left my kids on Christmas Day to force myself on a 10 mile run just to kill the boredom and sadness.  I still have my hard times but they are different now.  The pieces have fallen together, and they don’t look the way I thought they would, but they still make a pretty picture and one I can live with.  I struggle still to be flexible with the direction of my life, but he has made that easier for me.  Even when he irritates the living hell out of me, we both end up laughing about it.  When I push back against the way my life looks, he reminds me of what we both have to gain by being understanding and flexible and it’s usually what I need to hear. 

You don’t need me to spell this allegory out for you, so I’ll just say:  My house is still so cold in winter, but I got an infrared heater.  The camel crickets aren’t around much anymore, and I joyfully put up my Christmas decor this year.  (Running Boy, staring at the excessive decorations: ‘Ummm, do you do this every year?’) I enjoyed shopping for gifts, I’ve been hugging my friends a lot, and even though I’m off from running for a month, I’m happy to be taking steps to be healthier and stronger. 

It’s been a really good year. 

I write frequently about my friend Dan and his lovely girlfriend Nicole, who is now also just “Nicole”, instead of “Dan’s girlfriend Nicole”. 

Something kind of amazing and cool happened to Dan recently (for twitter folk, he is a.k.a. @wxdan). 

To say Dan is a “private” guy would be like calling the iceberg that sunk Titanic a lil’ bit of frozen agua.  It is a matter of my sheer annoying tenacity and willingness to question everything and everyone that has afforded me the relationship I have with Dan, and even I know I’ve barely scratched the surface.  As much as Dan has trouble talking about himself, though, Dan makes sure he is available for his friends, and his social media family. 

He also has an amazing ability to balance things on his nose.

It’s fairly obvious from Dan’s handle that he’s a bit of a weather nerd.  Actually he’s a Weather Nerd with a capital W and a capital N.  Sitting in the townhome he and Nicole share, I can see a huge “Severe Convective Storms” book (great for light reading before bed!).  The man is a scientific genius and used to give me panic attacks just showing me his homework (I have no idea what it even means). 

actual @wxdan homework!!!

When Dan went to finish college at Virginia Tech, Richmond mourned the loss of Weather Dan.  His social media family made lots of sad-faced emoticons in their posts, and we all wondered who in the hell was going to give us personalized forecasts within 30 seconds of tweet requesting it.  Thankfully, RVA News hired him to keep writing weather forecasts for us people in flat Richmond while Dan went to live (literally) at the top of a hill outside of Blacksburg. 

Instead of his ties weakening with his abandoned, sulking River City, it seemed to strengthen.  And he kept on tweetin’, stayin’ up late, and learnin’ more and more about weather.  He even got some sweet storm chasing gig through Tech and did crazy things like driving TOWARD tornadoes. 

Irene was no different than the many other natural things that happen, you know, like earthquakes, storms, and let’s not forget #snowpocalypse (actually, please, let’s forget that hashtag forever). For me, Dan is my personal race day forecaster who has never failed to prepare me for what mother nature is bringing down on my aching feet and burning lungs.  Dan stayed focused on Irene all week, making sure all of us knew the severity of the storm, and urged us to prepare.  He probably didn’t eat, and let’s not think about how many hours he went without showers while he answered the tweets and questions and stared into his weather modeling stuff that sits in a sort of tower in the townhouse.  I’ve heard rumors that Nicole forced him to eat and step away for breaks; that women is a modern-day Mother Teresa with a lot more style and a sewing machine. 

I posted the following Saturday night, as I wondered if Irene was ever going to get the hell away:

As you can see, my friend Mark asks the burning question:  why not just watch the weather?  Well, the weather was frustrating the hell out of me.  I wanted to know exactly WHEN it was going to be at the peak for MY particular area (he knew the specific address of where I currently sat, waiting for a loblolly pine to crush me to bits), and HOW LONG was it going to take.  Dan answered my question quickly . . . .and kindly.  In other words, he didn’t tell me to turn on the television; he knew what I was asking. 

Imagine the social media community of Richmond crawling on its knees, each of us losing power (and cell service!!!! it can’t be!!!), losing Facebook, Tweetdeck, and the tetherings of our sanity.  During all of this, a group of people in Richmond put together a private Facebook group.  During the Hurricane.  Amazingly enough, over one hundred people joined the group and began donating money to thank Dan for all the support, help and extras he’s given throughout the years. 

First, I’m going to post Shane’s explanation for the group that Dan read when he was finally given the news today:

An Open Letter to WxDan:

So Dan. We have a bit of surprise for you. While you were going over storm models and keeping everyone up to date with the best weather resource anyone could find, your friends and followers here in RVA were chipping in left and right to show you their appreciation.

You’ll see stories on this page about how you have helped people. They are sincere and unsolicited. Personally, you’ve been a weather safety blanket of sorts for us. Kristin and I can’t recall how many times we’ve told each other how lucky we were to have you as a resource on our twitter feed and we’re glad to call you a friend.

There is something else you should know. Jeb and Kate started the process by opening the group. I took it and ran that Saturday night as I figured I was the last one standing with both wi-fi and power. It was a total community effort. People enthusiastically gave. Within hours my paypal account had a few hundred bucks in it despite 70 percent of the town without power. Once everyone got to work on Monday it really went nuts. It’s obvious people feel you deserve this and more. Since there are still some folks likely out of commission, I’m going to keep accepting donations until Friday, but I think I’ve heard from most everyone.

So, if you would kindly message me your mailing address all 47 contributors would be pleased to overnight you a check for $1,000. Well $999.50, but I’m rounding up. Perhaps you can get that third or fourth monitor. Take Nicole out for a nice dinner. Pay Rent. Also, we’ve determined that Amazon does carry weather balloons. Just sayin’…

A couple of stories from members in the group, names shortened for privacy: 

Kristin said:  Dan, it was one in the morning, and you were researching tornado warnings for my family cut off from information, huddled in their basement in Pennsylvania last weekend. This is just karma paying your back for your goodness - we were simply the very eager conduits.

Nick said: Dan made a huge difference for Susan and I. Gave me piece of mind while traveling and helped me keep tabs for professional work. Susan was able to follow while home and said it was the best coverage online. Donation happily and proudly sent.

For me, it was an amazing thing to see all the different people Dan has touched with his kindness and patience and his true passion for all things meteorological.  He’s a one of a kind person, and I’m lucky to call him “friend”. 

And for Nicole’s sake, I really hope he passes on the weather balloon idea.  Nicole is really at a loss for where they would store it. 

Whoa, there’s been a lot happening up in this joint. 

• Work:
I’ve been looking half-heartedly for work because part-time is hard to come by, and I’ve had nothing but brick walls on the full time front.  I meant to blog about my abysmal and soul-sucking interview at an ad agency.  It lasted approximately 10 minutes and left me wanting to gut myself on the hipster stairway just to make the owner clean it up.  (Next time you will only hire someone with agency experience, don’t waste my time as it’s clear from my resume I have never worked for a traditional ad agency.  However, I have run my own for the past 9 years and could do this job with 2 hands tied behind my back, but never mind).  I had decided to stop looking completely as theoretically, nap mat season is right around the corner.  I keep waiting to round the corner.  Last year my season started in June; this year it seems to be off to a slow start.  I’m not going to lie. It’s freaking me out.  However, I’ve been really focusing on my site and adding new products left and right, writing new copy, trying to make Google direct the universe to me.  It’s paid off somewhat.  My friend Meg is an operations manager at a large pool company, and she is my sometimes-running buddy.  She had to can her admin earlier and called me to see if I wanted to help her out for the summer.  Hell, yes!  It’s just slightly better than minimum wage but I can work a few hours every day, help her out, and go home to finish out the day working on nap mats and other projects.  It’s some steady income I desperately need and might actually help me put some money back in the bank.  I haven’t done pure admin stuff in a long while but I’m looking forward to it.  Working in an office with people is exciting, as is helping keep things together in a fast-paced environment. I love being busy and organizing projects and procedures.  I’m not sure how I’m going to fit my exercise schedule into my life, but I’ll have to deal with it.  I got panicky just thinking about how I was going to be able to ride or swim when the better part of the day is taken up with work like normal people, but I’ll have to find a way and be flexible.  Because I have the kids so much during the week, I can’t leave early in the morning to run or train.  I think it would be frowned upon, leaving a 6 and 8 year old home alone while I do a 30 mile bike ride.  So . . . hopefully my training buddies like Charlette, John and Meg will be flexible with me.  It’s ironic that I’d have to pay my babysitter more than I’ll be making to watch them while I work out, but I’m going to try to ignore that.  Thankfully their summer camp is a lot less than a private babysitter Poor Thora; she’s going to miss me. 
• Christiansburg:
Trevor, Running Boy and I all drove out to see Dan and Nicole this past weekend.  I was reminded how much I love the mountains when we first arrived, and quickly schooled in how much I hate the mountains when trying to run distances on them.  By some grace I was able to survive a 5 mile run on the hilliest roads I’ve ever done and make it back to the house.  I learned a couple of things about running in Southwestern Virginia.  First, drivers there aren’t really used to runners.  They don’t really understand that when you see a person running down the road toward you, you should move away from the shoulder so they don’t kill themselves jumping into ditches to avoid being creamed by a gas truck.  Second, lots of dogs are unleashed.  That’s great, I’m all for free on the range doggie lives.  However, I wasn’t so fond of being bitten by a small dog named Blackjack who was slobbering and growling like Cujo.  After he chased me down the road, he grabbed ahold of my forearm.  I shook him loose, all the while listening to his owner shout at him and tell me “He’s friendly!  He ain’t gonna bite cha!”  This, after he bit me.  I have a pretty bruise to show for it but no broken skin. I also realized that no matter how much I love dogs, I have it in me to kick one hard if one ever comes after me again.  I also learned that running in the mountains is so beautiful, it almost makes up for the searing pain in my lungs and a pair of legs that wanted to quit 3/4 of a mile into it.  We spent Saturday tubing on the New River.  Nicole filled up a cooler with beer and beer and beer.  And some water and soda.  We stuck it in a beer tube and hung onto each other.  Dan spent a large portion of his float staring intensely at the clouds and running complex calculations in his head to determine whether we were, or were not, going to be struck dead by lightning.  Trevor got hit on by a cutie in a bikini, but I don’t think he was overly interested in sealing the deal.  Parts of the river were deep enough for swimming, so we all took turned flipping out of the tubes and getting wet.  I even practiced some open water swimming, but that lasted less than 5 minutes as I was still wiped out from the early morning run.  Running Boy and I were obnoxious and rented a double tube (think two donuts fused together).  We spent most of the afternoon alternately laughing hysterically or zoning out under a beautiful sky and clear river.  Both extremes were awesome.  Nicole and Dan made us a feast Saturday night and an amazing brunch on Sunday.  Every time I’m with them, I realize how much I miss them and I curse Dan for getting his damn degree finished up so far away from Richmond.  I got some alone time with Nicole and Dan both; each conversation reminded me how much I miss talking to them and how amazing they both are.  I’ve never met two people more cut out for each other.  Dan gave Running Boy “four thumbs up” (hmmmm), and Nicole said, “I’d be friends with him even if you weren’t,” so I guess that’s a good sign.  Really, Running Boy is hard not to like.  I like him, too. 
• Dating:
Speaking of Running Boy, things have been a little stressful lately but mostly due to outside forces (or as Philip would say, a ripple in the Force).  His divorce is looming closer but I’ve never experienced, this up close and personal, two people who cannot agree on just about anything.  In many ways, I think his ex disagrees just to mess with him, but maybe she truly does feel that strongly about every little detail.  Each time I think things are calming down, something else kicks the hornet’s nest and the emotional roller coaster decides to take another swing around the park.  My ex has a girlfriend too.  According to my girls, she is beautiful (but so am I, says Lily quickly), friendly, kind, nice, and indulgent.  When I picked them up today, both were wearing adorable bikinis that she had bought for them.  Dammit, she has good taste as well.  Lily then told me how the girlfriend had helped them make breakfast in bed for him on Father’s Day.  It’s all so domestic and cozy.  I’m genuinely happy (or I try to be) that they have such a nice person in their lives, and I’ve even gone so far as to send my ex notes telling him to thank her for me for the nice things she does.  But it also irritates me because she is so much easier for my kids to deal with than my situation.  She doesn’t have kids, so all of her attention can be focused on mine, and they love it.  Running Boy has kids, and when the 6 of us are together, it’s usually chaotic and noisy and no one person gets any kind of special attention.  While that can be a lot of fun (think Brady Bunch but with better hair), my kids don’t have the same relationship with Running Boy that they do with Amazingly Awesome Girlfriend.  In the car today, driving with Lily, I was murmurring “That’s great, ” and “I’m so glad you had fun,” and “What a pretty bathing suit she picked out for you”.  I thought I was doing a good job until Lily asked me what was wrong.  I quickly kicked myself in the butt and said, “Nothing!  I just hope one day you’ll feel as close to (Running Boy) as you do to (Amazingly Awesome Girlfriend).”  She hesitated and said, “I love (Running Boy) too, Mommy.  It’s just easier for me to be happy if Daddy marries (Amazingly Awesome Girlfriend) because she doesn’t have any kids.”  In her mind it makes perfect sense.  In my mind, I just think, why can’t this be easier?  The Boy and I vacillate between acting as if this is all so very casual and making plans for when we are 89 years old together.  Sometimes we forget to be casual and have conversations about merging families.  Other times we make callous comments about the next relationship or great love of our lives.  Sometimes I personally get so overwhelmed with all of the details and parenting styles and financial issues that I just want to join a convent and give up real relationships.  We both struggle with the balance between serious and still fun.  He’s still married, which is technically kind of a drag.  I’m legal now and I am over all of the drama and emotional debt that comes from divorcing, especially when kids are involved.  I’m selfish and I don’t want to deal with it; on the other hand, I’m incredibly loyal and I want to help him as much as I can.  After years of marriage, I’m less tolerant of anything that annoys me.  I have found that I don’t want to deal with a lot of things.  If I sense selfishness, annoyed is not even close to the right adjective for how I feel.  If I feel used, or put upon, I’m easily made irate.  I never used to be this quick to be annoyed, but I think it’s a temporary thing and I will slowly stop having knee-jerk reactions to things that have been issues in the past.  Thankfully, Running Boy has a completely different temperament than the ex and I am mostly dealing with baggage from the recent past - the idiots I dated after the end of my marriage and beginning of my relationship with Running Boy.  Sometimes I feel sorry for him because I’m still unraveling the ball of damage and bad decisions I made after leaving my marriage.  Other times I want to shake him, make him deal with his own crap.  Usually I just sit on my hands and wait until he can be clear of this cloud, because no matter what, until you are divorced you are still in a relationship with someone else.  We are both equally tired of this third person in our relationship.  I wait, sometimes more patiently than others, for her to exit stage left and for me to embrace the idea of putting up with this person’s interactions with what will soon be her ex-husband. 
• Training:
I’m still training for Pink Power Sprint Triathlon in August.  I do it right before leaving for my big exciting summer vacation - a week plus in Traverse City without kids or significant other.  I’m visiting a few friends and borrowing Philip’s car in exchange for buying him beer.  I can’t wait to be back there on the beaches and on road trips and camping.  I’m sad my vacation plans with the Boyfriend had a major fail (complex calendar scheduling malfunction - not unusual for us, unfortunately).  However, I haven’t had a vacation like this in I can’t even tell you how long.  It will be good for me to get away and rest for a bit, even if I am processing orders like a fiend during one of the busiest weeks of my business.  Half Marathon training team starts up August 6 and I will probably do that as well.  I’m struggling mightily with my weight and fitness level; committing to a training team has been helpful in the past.  I’m running a race series in July in my old neighborhood, of all places.  I hate the run and the course, and I hate the heat of July, so it’s almost like my own personal hell doing the runs.  I do it because I hated it so much last year, I figure I have to hate it less this year.  It makes no sense, but I’m going with it.  Maybe I’ll even blog more often this summer. 

I had coffee with a friend of mine today.  We hadn’t seen each other in a while and had some catching up to do.  We were talking about functional vs. dysfunctional relationships (I jokingly said, “functional” means “it works for me!”).  My friend said something to the effect of, “I’ve been doing this for so long I have no idea if it’s normal or not.  It’s just the way things are.” 

I’ve had lots of relationships where “normal” - i.e., what’s expected - is completely not cool.  The norm in one might be that lying is acceptable on all levels.  The norm in another might be that I give until I’m bled dry and receive little to nothing.  Another norm could be that our communication revolves solely around superficial nonsense, a relationship built entirely on “how was your day” and “what’s for dinner?” 

When you’ve been married for a long time, or in long-term relationships, however you legally define them, your version of normal can be its own form of baggage.  I’ve made a few comments about some dating mishaps I’ve had.  I remember going through a phase in the late mid 1990’s where I could have easily written a book on the bizarre things that happen when you are in the dating universe.  I dated a lot - I was young, employed, thinnish, and I had long hair.  But really, who could predict that one date would end up dropping trou at 2 am, in front of you and your group of friends, just to jump drunkenly off a diving board in an apartment complex pool (which later earned him the nickname “The Pendulum” - of which he was inordinately proud)?  Who could predict that my 35 pound mutt would save me from a near date-rape experience?  Or the date that ended within 5 minutes after I spilled a pitcher of iced tea on the crotch of his neatly pressed khaki Dockers, saving me from 2 hours of bad food with a humorless engineer from eastern North Carolina? 

Back then, I used to despair.  I just wanted a “normal” guy.  Someone without weird fetishes or a penchant for embellishing everything.  Gainfully employed and not interested in mooching off me.  Someone who could hold a decent, intelligent conversation - because back then I’d given up hope of meeting someone who could hold a decent, intelligent AND intellectual conversation.  My dream man back then is probably still my fantasy today, a veritable Frankenstein of country boy meets metrosexual meets athlete with the genetic code of an artist.  A man who can talk about politics like Jason Kenney can (because Jason, although a staunch Republican, could always explain the issues in a fair and balanced way - the REAL Fox news of Richmond, VA), appreciate contemporary art while sipping snotty wine at a gallery opening, followed by greasy pizza and bad reality television immediately following.  A guy who mixes nerd with cool (like Dan being a weather geek and saying “cumulus” and other weather terms while wearing his weird hat).  A guy who could make me feel safe, in a decidedly non-feminist way, I might add, because his hugs were that big and that encompassing.  A guy who collects weird things, like EPs or Virgin Mary statues or folk art. 

I don’t really believe that anyone’s ideal mate exists.  I think we put together the different pieces of what we need by drawing from the sources available.  My significant other has the power to make me feel incredibly safe and protected.  I feel beautiful and independent around him.  I feel like a good mom and, in general, a good person.  I have my art friends for that piece, my writing nerds, my blogging friends, my workout buddies.  My life feels very complete.  My “norm” is having a diverse group of people around me to sustain me.  Hopefully I sustain them as well.

For me, however, this whole “relationship” thing is surprisingly new.  I have trouble determining what’s “normal” for me to want and what is expecting too much.  Divorced women have to rely on their friends quite a bit; I am having to redefine my meaning of friendship and what works for me.  By relationship I’m not only speaking of romantic entanglements.  I guess I’m finding it a bit difficult navigating what is OK with me these days, and what is not OK. 

I dated someone previously who was a decent human being, but after being abused by his ex-wife for over a decade, completely self-centered.  He’d spent years caring for someone else and all he wanted from me was to care for him.  He didn’t want to have to work at anything.  The oblivious me didn’t quite realize this until a month or two down the road, when I began to feel resentment from out of the blue whenever anything was asked of me.  One night he asked me for a glass of water; I think my internal response was something along the lines of “Get your own blasted water and soak your head in it.”  The vehemence of my thought got my attention.  My resentment, 99% of the time, is related to an uneven relationship. 

Yes, I know.  Dating and relationships are difficult.  I’m a terrible dater. Most married people who are newly divorced suck at dating too.  We are all fish out of the tank, flopping around and trying to figure out how to survive.  We fall back on the things that made our lives easier when married.  Roles that are comfortable to others feel as cozy as an iron maiden to me; my resistance to anything that smacks of marital blissdom is legendary at this point. 

I don’t know what normal is.  I don’t know if I’m doing this right, or messing it up, or not expecting enough, or expecting too much.  I’m winging it, hoping that with a little patience, some sunlight and plenty of water, this exotic plant will find a way to live around my black thumb.

I finally remember what a runner’s high feels like.  It’s the ability to grin though your legs feel like they’ve been injected with firewater and your muscles cramp at random times, without warning.  Your hip joints burn and yet you still smile.  At the end of your race, you find your facial muscles cramping because you are smiling so hard. 

I am not sure I truly shared how difficult the Princess half was, and what a toll it took on my self-confidence.  As a newly-minted runner with lots of room for improvement (lose weight, run faster, run longer distances more frequently), my running ego is fragile.  I had a couple of bad runs and the Princess half was so brutal that frankly I never wanted to do another one again. 

I’d already signed up for Shamrock and had lots of other activities planned around it, so I knew I wasn’t going to bail.  When you pay a lot to run a race, you show up. 

The wind was insane this morning as we walked to the starting line.  It was the kind of wind that precedes a hurricane, only much, much colder.  I couldn’t breathe and all I could think was, “13.1 miles in this kind of wind . . . kill me now.”  We were also sprayed with flying sand which felt oh-so-pleasant in the eyes.  Thankfully, by the time our corral was released around 7 am, the wind had died down. 

I hadn’t run since a little 2 miler in Williamsburg on Thursday.  The first three miles were hellish.  My legs felt like they weighed 80 pounds each and burned like crazy.  I didn’t look at my Garmin and I asked Sarah not to tell me anything about pacing or time unless it was “speed up”.  I didn’t hit my stride until mile 4; Sarah and I both felt so good we skipped the water stop at the halfway point and ran to mile 9. We guzzled some Gatorade and immediately started running again.  Miles 10 and 11 were rough - I’m used to hitting the wall around 11.5.  We stopped briefly for more water at 11.  I looked at Sarah and said, “How are you feeling?”  She said, “Fine. . . actually, I’m dying.”  I laughed a little bit and said, “I’m dying too but let’s pretend like neither of us are.”  Sarah picked up the pace.  She mentioned we had some cushion for our time, but I didn’t want to risk it. 

We turned a corner and a blast of wind from the beach creamed us.  I knew we were approaching the boardwalk, so I knew we had to be close.  I could see the big statue of Neptune near the finish line and Sarah pulled up some reserve speed from I don’t know where, and took off.  I was close behind her but I had definitely pushed myself to the limit.  I had nothing over what I was already giving it.  This didn’t stop me from smiling my ass off from mile 12 to the finish line.  I could feel that I had done it - and it felt great. 

I finished and realized right away that I had PR’d.  My Richmond half time was 02:23:40.  My Disney Princess Disaster half was 2:29:53.  My time today:  02:20:34.  I shaved nearly 3 minutes off my first half marathon time, and I did it without too much pain.  It was the first run I’ve had where I could tell how much stronger I had gotten, how my breathing was better, and how I’d learned to pace myself while hydrating and eating when I needed to.  I rarely take time to give myself credit for all of the hard work I’ve put into my running over the past year and a half, but today I’m going to pat myself on the back (and rub my feet). 

My lucky charm is my nose ring - I remembered to bring it, switched it out, ran with it and promptly removed it.  I don’t care if it’s fake juju or the placebo effect, but the fact is, I race better when it’s in.  So I’ll be channeling el toro from now on when I race. 

My lucky charm is also the amazing group of running friends I have.  Sarah and I were in sync today; when she struggled, I knew it without her saying anything.  I know she could feel me struggling as well.  We barely talked but we were pulling each other forward, mile by mile, and having her by my side made a huge difference today.  It was also one of the few times I didn’t feel that I was holding her back, or vice versa.  We ran a great race and we did it together.  This morning at the starting line, I wasn’t excited.  I was terrified.  I didn’t want to “fail” again (even though I tell others that crossing the line is all the matters), and I really didn’t want to bonk when my super speedy running boyfriend was there watching me. 

Super Speedy Running Boyfriend also PR’d.  I got a giant hug as we stretched near the finish line; then he was off to run Theresa in for the last bit of her marathon. 

Which brings me to the second part of all this . . . Theresa and Prissie were trying to qualify for Boston again.  I could tell Saturday night that she was very nervous - more nervous than usual.  I managed to catch her around mile 12 when she ran past the hotel I was in; she already looked like she was struggling and not enjoying herself.  Theresa usually looks like she’s having a party when she’s running.  After I showered and changed, I hauled it back to the finish line to watch her finish.  As the qualifying time for Boston got closer, I was so nervous I was shaking.  I knew the boyfriend would feel terrible if he felt like he hadn’t been able to pace her properly, and I knew Theresa would be very upset.  I saw Prissie coming down the finish line smiling - I screamed her name and she finished.  A minute or two later, I saw Theresa.  I was screaming at the top of my lungs but she was so far in the zone she couldn’t see or hear anything.  It didn’t matter.  I saw her cross the line and I knew it was close.  A few minutes later I got a text from Gina saying that Theresa had qualified.  For the second time today, I cried from pure joy. 

I can’t imagine the mental fortitude it takes to run a marathon.  Theresa was cramping, her back was killing her, and she wanted to stop fairly soon out of the gate.  She kept going.  Next time you drive, look at your odometer and clock out 26 miles.  It is a LONG way to run when all you feel like doing is stopping.  Theresa, Gina, Mark, Prissie . . . I am just in awe.  They are all hard on themselves, but they don’t whine and they get it done.  I felt an amazing sense of pride and kinship with them today, even though we are in different leagues.  It really didn’t matter today how long or how fast - we all knew and understand how hard it can be and what it takes to push through.

I think I also cried a bit because I was relieved I don’t have any more half marathons to run until November

The non-running part of my weekend was also terrific.  Laura hooked me up with a free stay at an amazing bed and breakfast in Williamsburg.  The room was insanely cool, as were the homemade chocolate dipped strawberries.  The wine came back with us because I don’t drink before a run.  We got a quick run in, and Williamsburg was gorgeous - everything was blooming, it was warm, and we had a great dinner too. 

In the morning we left early because Theresa and Prissie had not pre-registered for the marathon.  It doesn’t usually fill up, so they had decided to wait until they came down Friday night.  Unfortunately it filled and only 25 spots were open.  Since we were the closest to Virginia Beach and could get there when the expo opened, we left Williamsburg and went straight to the convention center.  We arrived about an hour and 10 minutes before the registration opened; there were already people in line in front of us.  We were numbers 11 and 12 out of 25.  Let’s just say that a LOT of people did not get to run the marathon, and there were plenty of very unhappy people.  Although sitting in line wasn’t fun, I can’t tell you how great I feel now because they were able to run the marathon and best of all, both qualified for Boston.  (note to Theresa and Prissie:  you are totally buying me dinner in Boston).  Running Boyfriend canceled his lunch plans to go down early with me; it was super terrific of him especially since he was happy to do it and not a total crabby butt about it. 

The rest of the weekend was spent with friends, and we had a great time seeing Anja.  We were able to have delicious sushi with her late Friday night and ice cream after, and breakfast at Pocahontas Pancakes with her after she finished her 8k on Saturday.  She got to spend some quality time with the Running Boyfriend but more importantly she got to spend quality time with moi!!!  I miss her a ton; it was great to spend time with her without either of us being on mom duty. 

Saturday night we had dinner with the Byrd Park Group; we had some of the best Italian food I’ve had.  I also ate a 4 pound piece of chocolate cake and I didn’t share it with anyone.  The combination of good food, amazing friends and a super-supportive and kind man in my life made for a great few days away.

It’s good being home and resting my weary bones.  I had a great mini-break from reality, and some great strokes for my self-confidence level.  I’m looking forward to many more (short) races to come.  No more halfs until November!