Runaway Girlfriend

This winter, at 36 years of age, I found myself happily changing significant habits for the man I loved. I still had reservations, wondering if the changes were somehow untrue to myself or things that could not last... but I find that just about all of the changes are ones I want to keep.

For one thing, I became more feminine. I already knew I liked wearing skirts and keeping cut flowers on the table and watching chick-flicks and playing with babies and keeping house… but I discovered that the lace and curls and pastels, romance and sentiment and tears that previously I had treated with mild derision also seem acceptable and even desirable now. I don’t have to give up my turtlenecks, practicality, and intellecualism, but there’s room for another side of me. Yes, I’m a bit of a girly-girl.

Another thing is that I’ve started to take better care of myself, physically. It had been so long since I felt there was someone else who noticed or cared. Now there was. If I wanted to keep up with a high-energy man and whatever children God would give us, I would need to get in shape.

So I started running. If you’ve known me very well at all you will be surprised. Not as surprised as you would be if I took up something with the word ‘ball’ in it… (Most of you know that like my sister, I was born without depth perception. I'm hopeless at anything that requires connecting meaningfully with objects flying toward me through the air.) Running does not usually include flying objects, so it’s okay!

Well, I would not say I’ve mastered the sport. I’ll never be competitive or anything. What I’m striving for is regularity, better cardio-vascular fitness. Every other day or so I go to the Westridge Recreation Center and run about a mile, ten laps around the track. I’ve had a couple of setbacks: travel, of course. And I sprained my toe last month, which slowed me down. In England I bought a new pair of shoes which don’t pinch my wounded toe. So now I’m good to go again. I’m trying to get to the point where I can consistently run two miles. When I reach this modest goal I think I will reward myself with an MP3 player so I can listen to music while I run. I may also start using some of the machines and strengthen some muscles, but they are still a bit scary for me without a coach or companion.

I thought it would be more reasonable to run in the mornings, before taking a shower, but since I don’t sweat a lot this doesn’t seem necessary. I can go further if I’m already feeling alive and awake, so I go at night after work. When I come home I don’t feel like eating, and I sleep better without a big dinner.

Since I started running in order to keep up with Tom I wondered if it would be hard to continue, if running would stir my longing for him, my loneliness and self-pity, but so far, so good. Maybe there is something to this whole thing about – what are they called, the happiness hormones that exercise is supposed to release? Endorphins. I feel good about running. I feel good after running. And much to my surprise it’s even getting to be that I feel good =while= running!

I have been thinking a good bit about the importance of happiness. Particularly, the importance of knowing what it is that keeps us going, feeds our souls – what protects or renews or releases the energy that makes us a blessing to the world and people around us. We have got to know what those things are, as well as knowing about the lies, traps, and temptations into which we are prone to fall, and how to fight or escape them.

Would it be right to say we have a responsibility to be happy, to be free? Maybe I still have a lot to learn about this person inside my skin, what I need and like and what gives me life and sets me free, what stretches me or hurts me or causes me to shrivel up inside. So, a bit like Julia Roberts in the movie to which my subject line alludes, I am going to try spending a couple of months getting to know myself better.