I’ve done the Heart Run before and it’s alot of fun. It’s not timed, not a certified distance, just a chance for people to raise money for the cause and and walk or run anywhere from 3 mile to 30K distances. It consitently raises over a million $$ and had nearly 10,000 participants this year – the community and volunteer support is amazing! So all that is to say that it was a great run for Denise to start out with. We got dropped off at the starting area and waited while the 5 mile runners dashed through (with Denise’s daughter, Melissa, slowing her pace long enough to give mom a hug), then we watched 12 school busses full of other 3 mile runners shuttle in from the finish line. One Star Spangled Banner and starting gun later, we were off and Denise was totally psyched by the energy of it all. She had been doing run/walk intervals at the gym so I said that when ever she felt like she should walk was fine with me but she kept right on pushing through, even though inhaling the cold air had initially made it difficult for her to breath well. In the first mile, as we warmed up, we took several brief (30 – 40 second) walk breaks and Denise told me I could go on ahead. Honestly, part of me certainly wanted to pick it up a little, to push a little harder – but the greater part of me was really enjoying sharing this experience with my friend. It was her first group run, her first time off the treadmill, her first time running up hills, and I wanted to encourage her and to share her satisfaction when it was all done. So Denise set the pace and we waved to spectators and thanked volunteers and grooved a little to the bands and radio stations we passed. We made it up the big hill and rounded the bend to the finish, to be greeted by the, literally, thousands of walkers who were awaiting the start of their event. Denise was tired, and she was pushing hard to get to the end – as we headed towards the finish, we saw her daughter Melissa on the sidelines and she joined us to run mom in. With me on one side and Melissa on the other, Denise poured it on for the last several yards and crossed the line strong, with a big smile and high-fives as her name and donation amount was announced. After grabbing snacks, we met up with Denise’s husband and rode the shuttle back to the car while he rolled his eyes as we chattered about summertime races, the Boilermaker and even a fall 1/2 marathon. I was so happy for Denise’s accomplishment and happy for myself – to be running again, and to have such a good bud to do it with. I think it’s going to be a good year.

Today, I ran outside for the first time since early April ‘07. It was 23F with a little bit of biting wind and I was kind of bumming. I’ve been running on the treadmill at the gym for maybe a month now with my friend Denise – doing running/walking intervals – and it’s been good to get moving again, but the treadmill is kind of a drag. And you forget, even when you put it on an incline, how much the belt moves you along. So suffice to say that today’s run exacted a little more effort than I had previously been putting forth. I was happy to plod out 1.5 miles without walk breaks and felt warm and energized as I did some additional walking after. It’s humbling to start over (I know well, as I seem to keep doing it) but I’m working hard not to kick myself for not running as fast or as far as I did way back whenever – I had to start at the beginning then too.

I’ve also got a cool 20 divorce-pounds packed on over the past year so although I was *dying* for a fried egg & cheese sandwich this morning, I ran, stretched and finished it all up with a bowl of Kashi & strawberries with soy milk. I can’t say I’m not still thinking about that egg sandwich but it’s easier to continue doing good things for yourself once you start. Well, so far.

First of all – it’s still hard. The end of a marriage is so. freaking. hard. It’s incredibly frustrating, how the grief can grab you at unexpected times and just stymie every thing you’ve been working on, working towards. Sometimes I’m grooving – I’ve got a job in a place I really like, and exactly the position I wanted – for more $$ than at the old place, in the old life – I’ve got a new vehicle, I’m living in a sweet-awesome downtown apartment, I’m starting to make friends, I’m with a guy that I truly am nuts over. But sometimes. The despair is suffocating. I think it’s all especially poignant because the kid is leaving for college in a couple of weeks – out of state. In truth, I’m really excited for him and I think he’ll be just fine – he’s a really smart kid (yeah, I know every mom says that about her kid but in my case it’s really true! And, although I’ve dealt with him living 2 hours away for the past several months, 6 hours away is WAY too far and somehow it seems like I will miss him more than ever. Let’s listen in to the last conversation we had about heading off to school:

Me: So. Have you found out what you need to bring to school?
Kid: Well, I’ll find out when I get there and just buy it.
Me: Well, I mean like, does your dorm room have a desk or do you need to bring yours.
Kid: Um, I don’t think I’m going to fit my desk in my car.
Me: Well what about Daddy’s truck?
Kid: Um, I kind of thought I would just pack up my car with what I could fit and go.
Me: WELL, in every TV show *I* ever saw, the parents take the kid to college and see his dorm and meet his roommate and help him unpack and go out to dinner and maybe then say goodbye at the very last possible minute.
Kid: Yeah. That’s not how I envision it.

sniffle

But, really, if I was him – that’s exactly how I’d do it. So I’ve got respect for that and, in a couple of weeks, he will ride off into his own next big adventure, and I hope it’s grand.

In any case, I think I really am surfacing – which may imply that I had gone under, which is not entirely the case. It’s just that it’s a process – it really is a grieving process and, being a hospice nurse, I have a pretty good sense of how that can unfold – but the knowledge I apply to my patients and their families, of course, is not what I immediately recognize in myself. Although I’m sure it’s obvious to any other casual observer. And let me pause to say this: I am not comparing the break-up of a relationship to the loss of a spouse through death – when I talk about grief, I talk about that process we go through any time we have a significant loss – from a job to a marriage to a death. I may be less sad or more sad than any other person for any reason, I’m just talking about the path that takes you from feeling irreparably broken to mended. And all of that is to say that, though there are days when I am more back than forward, I am on the track I want to be on. I love my work, my home, my man, and my cute, new(ish) little CR-V. So I say to myself – Snap the freak out of it girl!!

The important part of this is that I really didn’t reappear here to pour out all my messy feelings (though, if you spend any time with me, you’ll discover that I’ve become prone to it – yeah, I’m pretty awesome to hang around with) – the thing is that I am moving again – my body that is (not a new apartment, sweet baby jesus not any time soon!!). See I came to this hospice and they have this AMAZING fundraiser – a 1.2 mile swim across Cayuga Lake and I volunteered at it this year, but when one of my co-workers (who’s 62 BTW) came up to me and said ‘do you want to train to swim it next year?’ I was already there! So, I’ve been swimming – at the Y – and though you may remember my not so great luck with the Y in my previous location – this Y has dedicated lap time at 6 AM. So Carol and I meet, and she totally laps me like 1000 times, but I’m swimming – I’m putting one foot in front of the other, as it were. Which is more than I have previously been able to say. When I wake up at 5:15 am it sucks, when I put myself in the pool it sucks, when I take that first lap or two – before I remember that I know a tiny bit (literally) about form it sucks. Then I find a grove, and I think ‘oh, this is kind of good – I’m ok here.’ And then, after shower and primping, I drive to work and feel ready to take on the world. So it’s good. Very good.

Life goes on, per Hedwig. And I believe her. I’m pulling the wig down from the shelf.

Only a two hour drive from where I was before, but somehow much farther than that too.

The move went off beautifully. D. states he is an expert mover, which I won’t argue – but with life down to a rocking chair, dresser, about 15 boxes (at least 5 of which are shoes and bags *sigh*), and 2 cats how can you go wrong??

Speaking of cats

they’re settling in just fine.

Please witness the girl-ification of the Zen space……

And not done by the girl, might I add.

He glue-gunned the fur trim on himself.

I’m feelin’ loved people!

Now then, back to moi’. First of all, thank you for the check in’s on Facebook and in comments – even though I was so rude as to leave them unanswered, they meant alot, and ultimately prompted me to bless you with the vocal stylings of David Soul. Because what better way to express myself than through the crooning head of a 70’s TV heartthrob as he lip syncs, badly, and makes smug facial gestures that seem to say “c’mon baby it’s no big deal, just get back in bed – you know you want me.” In any case, I will expand on what David had to say and tell you that I am alive, I am breathing, I’m not running, but I do believe I’m approaching the light end of a dark tunnel.

Here’s the scoop:

First of all, I think I might have intimated awhile back that this turned out to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. If I didn’t tell you that, I will tell you now – ending a marriage and divising the life that will follow is really. fucking. hard. I’m not giving news to anyone who’s been through it, it’s just that I had no idea. None. Especially since our break was amicable, mutual, entirely agreed upon. I cannot even fathom what it must be like when it’s a one-sided decision, or there is animosity, because I would have considered this the best possible scenario and it still sucked. Sucked horribly and terribly. And I was completely unprepared for that – as was he. We both just thought we’d go from married to good friends in the snap of a finger so we didn’t protect ourselves emotionally, and both ended up terribly raw. And it wasn’t about feeling that it was a mistake, or thoughts of re-uniting – it was about the loss. The dying to each other. The re-making of an intertwined life into 2 separate ones. I don’t mind telling you now, I was in despair. And stuck, and fearful, and just feeling empty of meaning. I knew enough to know that I was in mourning, and that – although when you are in the midst of it you can’t easily comprehend, or believe – time does ease grief. It has to, we could not survive if it did not. And so, in time, the load has lightened – for both of us, as we are now able to communicate on a comfortable enough level to start making plans for the kid going to college in the fall, and for the legal separation agreement that we will finally be filing. Why not just get a divorce? Ask New York State why it’s so fucking difficult and let me know if you get a satisfactory answer. In any case, things are smoothing – and it is such a relief.

But wait, there’s more! I’m not promising when I’m gonna post again so I’ll give you the whole damn deal up front. You see, there is this guy…..

I have known D. for 22 years. I was 18 and he was 25 when I first met him, when we worked together at the restaurant. Until I began seeing Brian 6 years later, D. and I had an on again/off again romantic relationship – and always a friendship on those in-between times. Once I was with Brian, we maintained our friendship (he came to our wedding) – sometimes we might only talk once every several months, or see each other for a visit once a year when he was in town, but we always kept connected. So, you can see where this is going right? Relationship rekindled – but all these years later, two grown-ups with much more emotional experience, it is 1000 times better than when we said we loved each other so many years ago. And so, I am leaving the horse farm and moving to Ithaca to be with him. And I am walking on air.

In my circle of friends and family, some have told me they are so happy for me, others have clucked and suggested that I’m being a little rash – that it smells of a rebound. I’ve thought about that, in fact labored under some guilt about it for awhile, and I decided that in the end, I can only say this: I am in love, I am happy, I am starting a new adventure – a new chapter – and frankly, I have very little to lose for just straight-up following my heart. I don’t own a home any more, I’ve only got two portable cats depending on me for food and water, I’m in a profession where I can throw a stone and find a job – you tell me – what have I got to lose? I don’t know who composed it but there’s a fitting quote that says: “When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But … that is not what great ships are built for.” I don’t know that I’m such a great ship, but if I can still float I might oughta want to sail.

And so, there is the news. I am moving at the end of March and, though it’s a little ways away, it doesn’t feel like nearly enough time for packing and job hunting and just generally coordinating – but, at the same time, I wish it was tomorrow – I wish it was yesterday.

And P.S. Jon, I plan on being at the ‘08 Boilermaker so, if you are coming, we can either stay at my sister’s place in Forestport with her 3 daughters and 7 huskies or we can split a hotel room (I have a friend at the Radison dude!) – but remember what the Fonz said about divorcees’….

– they’re hot to trot!

TTYL
*smooch*
~ Lara

Seriously, I had no idea! Am I so Sex And The City or what?? (um….except for the sex part).

Never mind, I’m going out to the barn.

Sometimes life is good.

As this is an alleged running blog. Let me start here. I don’t have to tell you that I haven’t done anything more than sporadic running in some time. In August, when all the shit really came down, I had some really good runs – passionate, appreciative, therapeutic. Why I don’t always tap into that, when I know it’s right there, is a mystery to me. But I focused myself elsewhere – in avoidance, in routine, in the notion that I had to be present for others and not so much my self. But, you see, in a lot of ways, my role is changing entirely. In a perfect world, you just make the shift – there, all set. In the real world, it’s hard to die to your own (and other people’s) image of you. But maybe the dieing is part of the becoming.

And so, I have a plan.