I saw this and absolutely loved it. I am having a weird shift taking place inside of me. I have come to accept that I’m not running for awhile. I head to the orthopedic specialist in the morning to diagnose and create a treatment plan that will bring me back to running. It’s kinda cool, because I can see what else I can do with this body.
This weekend, I went to Fresno to be with the women I love. No longer am I riding the rails, but that’s another story for another time, and won’t be on the blog. It’s a story that the women in my life hear. Over and over and over. And another friend who has been the recipient of late night gab fests, and finally I headed to Fresno for a job interview. I am only less than a year away from retirement, so I NEED a job in a school district. And, if I get this job, it will be an 85 mile commute, but the jobs are limited. Especially for people about to hit the retirement curve. **Pause for shock…you didn’t know I was that old***
I meet my diva for lunch at Rubio’s, and with a hair in the food, and the quick delivery of my money back, we head to a different joint to dissect her life and mine. I spend time with an old friend who I met 25 years ago, and she lends me her apartment. She, a Giants fan, and me, an avid Dodger fan. I spend time on her balcony while she reports the Giants did this, and oh look at that…and I listen to the wind chimes and enjoy the solitude. A few of the gal pals I message with all day long decide that yes, we will meet at the Farmer’s Market. I spend a few moments thinking about the joy of last summer, and the sparkling pool, and yeah. But, it’s different.
I have one moment of my heart jumping out of my body, but guess what. I think I might be a grownup. I get up on Saturday, and chat with friends and head to places where I know I’m alone, and see a women who has my history. She, with 40 years of sobriety…and I am just brimming over with emotion. After a bit of conversation, I decided that I either have to stay or go. I decide that I don’t live there…and I later come back to my town. Where I write and ponder. It takes a long time, and I am not having fun, but this part is so necessary for growth. For peace and balance. To be able to not regret the past, it is absolutely imperative that I go through that inventory process. I don’t see my part. I call someone who continually lifts me up. I am full of a noisy head, but I head to see friends, because when you’re that out of balance, there is no where else to go sometimes.
I later land in a meeting, and wonder why I’m there. I’m bored already with meetings, and isn’t it enough already? I’ve had no drink since 1979, and why. I just feel rotten. In the last two months, I fall in love with and help start 2 women on the recovery journey, and I think…they are both gone. What the hell is the point? I’m in a room full of crazy people. I recognize myself. Just as I am about to leave, here she comes. Girl with 30 days, who had so much promise like we all do. And she can barely look up. I recognize the shame of alcoholism. The lowered eyes as if to say, look, I’m only here because I have no idea what to do. After the meeting, I come to her, and she is drunk. And. She is me. I try to get her to let me take her to her parents’ house, but she refuses. I talk to another lady who helps me decide what to do.
Today, I bring my running partner to her half marathon, where I do not allow myself any pity. My job is to support her, to be there, and we head for omelets and waffles and diet cokes after, like we’ve done so many races before. We sit and chew over all of the things we haven’t talked about since she got faster, and I got older. Some things are the same. She PRs by 4 minutes, and I couldn’t be more proud, and we look at her splits.
I am home. I’ve picked up my dog, I’m getting into the spa, and I’m feeling the shift. I’ve sat on the spin bike, done an ab workout, cleaned the pool and am in the quiet once again. Change is happening inside of me. I am following direction, the dictates of a god, and the girl that was brought out in this last year? She is here. Which is another story for another time.
There is a shift. And. It feels weird.