Working through heartache fucking sucks… and this is no exception.
I’m not sleeping well, and it’s ten times worse when I have the day off. Yaaaaaaawn… and I’m exhausted.
If I can sleep past 4, it’s a miracle. My feet hit the cold hardwood floor at 4:05 this morning. Ugh. It’s a light snow/rain mix and I’ll go crazy if I sit here in the dark empty house. I miss my kids, I’m lonely, argh… frankly I’m miserably unfulfilled and goddamn tired of it.
Tie on my running shoes. Throw on his sweatshirt. Pout.
The first hundred feet are the hardest for me when the weather sucks. After I’m hot and struggling to breathe, cursing my cigarettes and the fact I live where it CAN snow- I’m fine.
But those first hundred feet?
I bargain with myself.
“This is insane. Why are you even out here? WTF? The perc to being single is NOT running in shitty weather. That’s why God made satellite television and knitting.”
and I fight my laziness with fact…
“Whatever- looking good is the best revenge and he’s going to feel ten times worse looking at you blissfully happy and burn the house down hot than he would if you ran into him carrying cupcakes and knitting needles. Healthy vices turn into healthy habits. KEEP GOING”
Being in a bad mood only makes me run further, faster… and the music is so loud in my ears that my eardrums may burst before my body gives out.
Nicki keeps me going and I didn’t realize how far I’d ran until I realize how wet my calves are. I turn around, started heading for home and it started snowing harder… and the wind started to howl.
I’ve gone far enough to feel good about my little running temper tantrum, now I just want to blink and wiggle my nose and be home. No dice, I’m at least an hour away.
So I face the ugly irritants in my life that are really weighing on me.
I can’t be mad at Thomas any more. He’s ruined so many things and lied to so many people. I’m one on a list and if anything, that’s what hurts the most. I hope he finds his conscience, and I hope he makes amends for the hearts he’s broken and will continue to break. Actually when I’m out running in the slush, I wish the worst of the gold-digging con-artists on him. That’s what he really deserves.
My bad habit is just too damn unreliable.
I have the nicest guy totally and completely stupid crazy about me- and I keep him at arms length because I am not ready for that. I prefer a bad habit to a regular one.
I’m out of the pool, and trying not to take advantage of someone’s feelings, purely to make myself feel better. I’m fighting my codependency and winning- how bout that? 🙂
Running is perfect for working out the worlds problems, or your own, and getting some much needed exercise too.
I’m incredibly burned out and facing my kids birthdays just around the corner, something that breaks my heart a little each year. It’s gone by so fast… and I miss their infancy. Life was so much more simple when I only had to worry about breastfeeding and sewing Halloween costumes.
I run around the corner and slip… oh yes… slushy muddy goodness, and my hands covered in the same. Uck. No more running in slush… this absolutely sucks so badly. I’m pretty close to home though.
I decide to walk the rest of the way, even though the smart thing to do would be to run, because I’m freezing. I turn the music down a little and fight off any sad feelings looking at the empty road ahead of me.
and a car pulls up behind me and I hear a voice say…
I don’t recognize the voice and I turn around and strain to see who it is in the early morning dusky darkness.
OH NO IT’S NOT.
It’s the extremely hot customer I crush on…. think Pierce Brosnan and David Beckham combined. Beautiful AND delicious…. and very much the last person on earth I want to drive up behind me right now.
H- Hey hop in, you look like a drowned rat.
Well there goes any romantic notion that I was somehow making the wet early morning runner thing, look hot. I’m struggling to get out of the threat of increased closeness.
J- No, but thanks- my house is just up ahead.
H- I know, I’ve seen you out there gardening before. Hop in and let me give you a lift home or I’ll worry all day.
He’s in a suit, clearly on his way to Spokane for work this morning and looking every bit the GQ fantasy in my mind. I’m in running pants, capilene and my “Real girls eat meat” tshirt. Dear God in heaven…
J- I’m wet and dirty… you don’t want me to even sit in your car right now.
H- Wet and dirty huh? Now I insist. I have a towel if you’re worried, but I really don’t care. Hop in!
I’m wondering how obvious it would be to use the edge of my soaking wet shirt to clean up my mascara, which I can assume is smudgy… and I climb in. Omg… he’s so clean and dry.
And I am literally a drowned rat. He drives past my driveway and I point and he smiles.
H- I’m going for coffee right around the corner and I insist on taking you for some too. You look frozen and your teeth are chattering.
I look like hell, but my cupcakes make gay men propose to me.
Not what I expected on my morning run this morning, and somewhat mortifying… but a lovely beginning to my day off.