Running. An addiction I hate to love.

Running.

I don't understand, but I just know I do it. I hate it. I don't like doing it. But I love that I hate it and I can't stop.

I ran my first half marathon a couple weeks ago. That was a two year in the making process to get me mentally able to do it. That is 13.1 miles. Who in God's name enjoys that. And at the ass crack of morning. No one likes ass crack. So you get my point when I say how early you get up.

As I got into my 5th mile, I remembered this same run the year before. I had opted for the 15k part of it and scoffed at my friend, but stared hard at her like a Goddess in Adidas, and said you are mother flipping cray cray. I whined, I cried internally and externally. I walked A LOT.

Not this time. I was in my zen zone. I wanted this and I didn't want to be a quitter. Don't get me wrong...I still cried internally when the road inclined slightly. (Silently praying for some button to make the incline disapper). Mile 6. Mile 7. Mile 8...you get it...Mile 10. Hell to the yeah. Ms. Encouragement Award should have been thrown my way.

3 more to go. You are an animal.

Mile 10.2. A hot meltdown of epic Rambler porportions started to erupt within every cell in my body and I started shutting down. I pulled my sweaty phone out of my arm band and I placed a batman distress call to my CCBFF. We talked. She listened to me and maintained the positivity for my sanity. We talked about not farting...we listened to me choke on a bug...and then decided I needed to resume.

That was the hardest 3 miles of my running life.  I knew I was close.  And it was a pure mental battle with myself to not quit and beg people all my credit cards, monopoly money, bottles of liquor to save my life.  I'm dramatic.  I know.  But the struggle was real.

BUT...I did it.  I frigging did it.  When I crossed that finish line, I wanted to hug anyone that would let a strange person who's body was laced head to toe with dirty smelly sweat.  I wanted to scream out loud that I did it.  The humble don't draw attention to herself girl I am just bit my lip, to hold the emotionally almost out of control liquid on the corner of my eyes in.

Running.   The thing I hate to love and love to hate.

Life Changes--The Rambler Way

So...life changes.

My life changed.  And that change taught me I can definitely survive.  I won't go into details, but I do know why I got so immersed into this blog world.  Why I held onto every single comment from anyone I didn't know existed until they hit publish comment in my post.

Divorce.  That ugly goddamn word.  I swore up and down when my parents split, that hurtful word would NEVER end up as describing a part of my adult life.  I would work harder, I would love harder, I would do what it takes.  The reality, well MY reality,... was realizing, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, hard you love, some people just don't belong together.  Forever.

I won't talk about the ugly part of my separation cause who the hell cares about that...but yet the bitterly funny part of rejoining this world as a single person.

My first cynical single person moment was working my first holiday as a single person....Valentines Day and if you don't recall, I work in a restaurant.  I took phone call for reservations from men who just:

"loved the one they were with" (good for you),
"help me cause I think I might propose" (oh no..no no no no no...don't flipping do it),
"my lady means the world to me" (yeah, well, did I mention I don't care).

All this while oozing out of my mouth.

"How sweet, of course I want to help you dote genuinely sappy love adoration upon the woman who rocks your boat."

I wore all black that day and told my staff it represented my ninja like abilities to steer clear emotionally from the sickening displays of affection about to enter our doors for a full 14 hours of work.

I'm pretty sure I puked inside my own mouth when I had to help with the proposal.  Then I sorta internally freaked out and thought I shouldn't really touch anything they eat, drink or put on a finger.

What if my divorce vibes rubs off on them?

What if I lose the damn ring he begs me to help hide in something to bring out?
What if she blasts him with a fat NO, points at my face and screams " I don't want to end up like her" while I hold her whip cream dessert hiding the ring this man worked all year for with a stupid smile on my face that says...I get it...I don't want you to end up like me either.

Screeching back to THEIR reality...I smiled through that whole thing as his woman screamed yes, thanked me for being a part of it, and everyone nearby cheered for them.

That day sucked my soul dry.  Being around a lot of love between man and woman, man and man, woman and woman...was too much for this newly single gal.  BUT...I survived.  Of course I did.

This year, I wasn't so cynical.  In fact, I wore a red shirt to celebrate the day.

I allowed myself to be more tolerable.  To swim with my head above the water.  (Albeit, screaming for a lifeline from the two romantically rowing a boat oblivious to the dramatic person drowning in ankle deep water.)  

More things have changed for me this year also....I'm smiling more.  But that's for another post.