Heart of a Lion, Mind of a Fool

She left without so much as a goodbye, well, a verbal goodbye. She was never one for confrontation or similar awkward situations. Just a short note, fifteen maybe twenty words. Something like:

"I'm moving back to my parents', I don't want to do this anymore. I'm sorry. I will get the rest of my stuff when I can."

                                                                                            Elizabeth

She had left on a Friday with her mom to visit an aunt, or at least that's what I was told. Over the next few days, we traded a handful of texts and pictures. On that Sunday, she found out her work schedule changed and would be staying through Monday. That Monday afternoon as I leave work for lunch, turning my phone back on, I have a text that says, "I'm back in town, be home soon." Shortly thereafter, at home eating lunch she comes in our apartment looking tired. Not bad, just...well...worn out almost.

I hugged her, told her I missed her and asked how the trip was, but a moment or two later it was time to head back to work. I kissed her goodbye, said I loved her and did this stupid goofy thing we do closing the door ever so slowly and staring at one another between the crack of the door till it closes with dumb looks our faces.

And that was it.

When I came home after work, I found the note. Her stuff packed in bags and the big stuff - the stuff one would need immediately or needed to have with them more sooner than later - were gone.

I sat confused for a few minutes, then my heart began to race and my breathing became labored. I called her, it just rang. Again, it just rang. I sent a text, no answer (we typically get back to each other rather quickly), I called her dad and sounding freaked out I'm sure, I asked, "Is Elizabeth okay?" He responded, in his down-to-Earth, nothing gets me all that excited demeanor, with, "She said she broke it off with you and went to work, she didn't seem upset."

Wait...what?! What just happened...but...no....this can't be happening, can it?

Stunned, I sent a Facebook messenger note asking her what's going on and I get back, "I left you a note." That note seemed cryptic and I didn't understand.

She followed with, "I'm sorry, I'm a bitch." There were few more words to it, but....that was basically it. And, yes, she said the quoted words you just read, that's not me thinking out loud.

I didn't know what to do. I was scared, discombobulated, couldn't think, couldn't eat.....I was thrown off pace. She isn't a bitch (sure, if you are an ass to her, she will act like one, but don't we all) and why is this happening?

For the next few days she was a ghost. I didn't contact her again for awhile because I was frustrated and mad at her, but all the while heartsick and missed her dearly. I'm not needy, and didn't want to seem like it, but damn it....I missed her a ton.

I saw her leaving what was "our place" on another lunch break three days later. She was putting her TV in her car as I was pulling in, our eyes met...but it was a stone cold glare that pierced through my soul. I wanted to stop her, wrap my arms around her, tell her that I love her and to come back home...but that glare...it was fierce and it wanted no part of me.

Thinking she would come back in, I waited a moment and looked out the window. She was in the driver's seat and the car was running. I quickly sent a text asking her if she was coming back in, she writes back, "Why?". "So we can talk", I said. "I said what I needed to say, I don't want to talk about it anymore.", she replied.

I begged her to talk to me, she would have none of it. The next day or two I sent a number of messages and a letter, asking for us to try to start over again...you know, from scratch. I stopped by her house (she wasn't there, her dad didn't know where she was), and even drove by her place of work (against my better "I swear I'm not a stalker" judgment) and she wasn't there, and called a couple of times with no answer.

Finally, a couple of Facebook messenger posts between us took place that following Sunday morning, I poured my heart out (I had to do it this way, she wouldn't talk to me otherwise and avoiding having to look at me like a person at all costs). And I don't mean I made crap up, I FINALLY dug deep, threw it all in. She understood and appreciated my forthcoming, but she's way too smart a girl for that...I was probably two years too late.

I had been a fool, a bit scared, a little apprehensive, a lot stupid, even more ignorant and ultimately, I was completely selfish. And why you ask? Because I was afraid, afraid of losing something of myself. And just exactly what is that "something"? As embarrassing as it is to say, I really, truly don't know.

It was always about me, never about her. Even when I actually tried to make it about Elizabeth, it somehow came back to me. I have to have some sort of chemical imbalance that just drove the best thing that has happened to me since I can remember out my front door. And out of my life.

A young, attractive woman with an interest in getting to know me - WITHOUT ANY EFFORT ON MY PART OTHER THAN JUST EXISTING - and I essentially piss on it. Wow, I have no excuses for what I do and/or why I do it.

I can sit here and tell you how I feel and what I'm feeling, but the real detail is about her. How I made her feel and what I couldn't do for her as she did for me. She didn't get the return from me that she deserved for the time, effort, love, generosity and simple giving of one's self that she gave to me without hesitation. She was all in, no questions asked.

Even with the note she left and her leaving on what seemed like in a flash. She did it, didn't look back, didn't give in, decided she was done and her subconscious blocked any and all of my efforts to get another chance. I could never be that strong, but she is amazing to me in the way she can give of herself, then take it all back with the same mindset and fortitude.

God, I wish I had that wherewithal.

No, I don't believe the decision was on whim, made quickly or without tremendous thought.. It was over time, she grew tired, frustrated, lonely and was in a place she didn't want to be anymore - because of me. She thought hard, kept herself up at night (even moving out to the sofa some nights just to get comfortable), dealt with additional stress and anxiety to go along with the small anxiety issue she had to begin with. Work became harder and looking at me (and wanting to scream, "What the hell is wrong with you!?") came with more disinterest every day. She kept trying, and I didn't - and simply couldn't - notice.

That tired look she had on that Monday she came home from that long weekend makes sense now. She had made a decision, still not completely sure, but that decision was made. She had stepped away for a few days and thought it through. She wanted to move on with her life and do it without me. I cannot imagine how difficult a decision this was for her. Then again, I'm sure I made it that much easier. She's young, full of life, has a huge heart, big ideas and is ready for someone who will understand, make her laugh, make her smile and show her that there is more to this craziness that we live than what she's been able to experience.

She loved me and maybe still does a little, but I was holding her back and making her unhappy. And that is simply unacceptable on all levels.

It makes me sick, but she could not have made a better decision.

And all I can do is blame myself for the end of what once was our path and is now, again, just me...at 41...still trying to figure out my quirky, backwards mind and why it works the way it does.

Here it is, January 29th, a cold, flurry filled Sunday evening with a sleeping Jameson (the cat) purring away in my lap and Whiskey (the other cat) curled up in a ball on the brown rescued, yard sale chair I bought when I moved into this apartment four years ago. We are just four weeks into 2017 and I have no idea as to who I am or what it is I want or what I should look forward to. Yes, things change, things improve and people move on, I know. But damn...Elizabeth, me saying "sorry" to you, again, just doesn't do you justice.

Once I could tell how you feel by the look on your face. Reality now tells me clear that was a different time, and a different place...

Do You Still Run? - Part 5: Run (Not Bud) Wiser, Enjoy Your Craft (Beer)

It is exceptionally satisfying when you understand your mechanics and work with them. I think I have a ways to go, but I get it - I finally get it. The motivation is there and my body is responding to running (again) with a focus that, not too long ago, seemed ridiculous to me. It only took an offer (a threat) to take part in The Buck Fifty 150 Mile Relay in April.

The Buck Fifty Relay details

In high school and college it was about winning and beating opponents, which can skew your game plan. Paying attention to what others are doing robs one of the most important mantras: RUN YOUR RACE. That may be a good reason why I lost the passion for running some time back. Leave it up to being young, stupid, narrow minded, stupid, self absorbed, stupid and......did I mention stupid?

I received a Garmin watch for Christmas and with it have been able to return to the stat geek days of my youth. Keeping tabs on pace, distance and such has allowed me to run the way I want to, the way my 41 year-old can (or can muster). It was an epiphany: This is enjoyable again and its because I'm working on my race, my running, what I can do. Sure I engage with a community of runners, yes...I like to race - but I race to challenge myself. That doesn't mean I don't ever bite off more than I can chew, but I can now deal with it properly and not psyche myself out and self implode.

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Beer would be an example. In my teens and twenties one drank fizzy, yellow domestic beer. We drank lots of it and quickly - because it wasn't about the taste, it wasn't about simply enjoying it. It was about getting a buzz and having fun - until our bodies hit a breaking point (Dude - one word: solid - S...O...L...I...D, give me something solid or we're exiting the way we came in like Noah and the Ark riding a tidal wave of regurgitated beer and bile).

"Balls to the wall" as we used to say, a race to the finish, then deal with the aftermath.

Now, in my 40's, its something to savor. Your take your time and sip it and work through it. This allows one to experience the flavors, the chase, the process - that's craft beer. Sure, some are better than others, but you enjoy what you like and enjoy it at your own pace.

That is the difference, I have discovered, between running then and running now. Its not so much about the finish, its about the process of getting there. Even still the process is dotted with more aches and pains that tend to last way beyond the post race cool down. Longer training runs have proven that I can keep consistent for up to seven miles. With that said, of course I'm going to push the envelope and run further than I have in 15 years - it only make sense (When Egos Attack, Next at 11!).

No reason to wait to go overboard, which is exactly why I signed up for the Brokeman's Winter Warm Up eight miler on January 15th...wait, do I hear somebody playing Taps?

Half Marathoners in front, 8 milers behind, 5K-ers in the back.

The weather treated us right, it was cold - around 30, but not breezy and no precipitation falling or on the ground. The three tiered race included a half marathon - which started first, the eight miler began two minutes later followed by the 5K two minutes after that. Once our race began the major work was dodging and working our way through the marathoners who were obviously going at a slower pace. Also included were the wooden bridges along on the paved trail - they were frozen, so we did our best ballet tip toe to cross them with an occasional flailing foot as it lost its grip on the bridge floor.


About a mile and a half through it was plain to see there were three of us out front of the eight mile crowd. Still dodging a sporadic half marathoner, it was nice to have others to help keep pace. Along with me were this kid who looked about 15 and gentleman about my age. As we continued through passing water stations and 13.1 mile participants, I could feel my pace was much faster than my training - which was good. Its hard to train at a high level by yourself all the time, trying to gauge without a frame of reference.

Approaching the finish, 
exhausted

It seemed to take forever to reach the turn around point of the out and back course, though when it came about there was still just the three of us...but not for long. Probably a half-mile into the return trip the gentleman - clad in orange - suddenly blows by me and the kid whom I'm trailing. The only difference is that the kid went with him. I tried, but simply couldn't find that gear. Though I was able to keep a lengthened stride and push myself beyond simply putting it into cruise control. It was another 'sign of the times' moment with another adolescent beating me into submission, just like the 12 year-old girl did in the 5K race in December...stop laughing.

Beginning to feel the fatigue I let my mind wander in an effort to keep myself in rhythm. I haven't run anything more than 6.8 miles since I began in August and I'm now doing well with real runners at a never before attempted distance, apparently I'm doing something right. I joined a group of like-minded runners on Garmin Connect and take part in weekly challenges regarding miles run per week. We are at different levels, but it is an incentive to try and keep pace with others or at least show you, too, are putting in the effort. Creating my own routes around Marion is fun as well - a nice way to see the neighborhoods one typically drives through way to fast.

My race bid and the back of my finishers' medal.

Forcing a smile - knowing that I'm actually improving after nearly 20 years off - I can see the other two ahead of me (I mean, WAAAAY ahead of me) battling and the finish is just ahead of them. I chug along and for the last quarter mile or so I have to tell myself to push to the finish, hard to do sometimes when you don't have anyone around you.

My goal was 59:00 minutes, based on my training times and pace. At the gate, I see out of the corner of my eye the clock is at 57:50 something or other - ahead of my goal, but disappointing because I felt I as going much faster. Sucking wind, I glance at my watch - it shows I was faster than the race clock.

Half smiling/half grimacing at the folks handing out the finishers hardware I turn to see the dude in orange walking towards me - the one who blew who past me at the turn around - he, along with a woman, say, "Are you Craig?" That's when it hit me, a handful of Buck Fifty Race Teammates had planned to race today as well. Up to this point I only knew names and the man in orange (not to be confused

Fellow Traffic Panthers: Patricia, Kevin, Gary and Susan....
and me.

with the man in the yellow hat) was Gary. He, along Buck Fifty Teammate Patricia, reminded me that the race clock was set for the half marathoners who started two minutes ahead. So my watch was correct, my finishing time was 55:56 - a 7:00 mile pace -three full minutes ahead of my goal. Shortly thereafter, teammates Kevin and Susan made themselves known.

I ran the longest race I have ever been apart of and did it with flying (personal) colors - finishing 3rd. It was a shame to hear that Gary, ultimately, was also beaten by that kid who turned out not to be 15 - he was actually 14. Ahhhh...more salt in that wound - feels good....FEELS GOOD!

Some of us wanted a beer afterwards, but it was still only 9:45 in the morning, so we settled on breakfast/brunch at Bob Evans instead - the beer came after I made it home. At Gary's suggestion, I signed up for the Fantastic Frigid 5K in Westerville on January 28th. Running with folks you know can make attaining goals - and failing miserably - more enjoyable.

The Buck Fifty 150 Mile Relay is now just three months away and team Traffic Panthers is on the prowl (or...on a slow, methodical jaunt with a drink or two in hand snapchatting everything in our way. Destruction waiting to happen)!

"Six bucks and my right nut says we're not landing in Chicago" ~ Del Griffith, Planes, Trains & Automobiles


Step 1 - Do You Still Run? Part 1 Getting Started: COMPLETED

Step 2 - Do You Still Run? Part 2 Being Consistent, Make Progress: COMPLETED

Step 3 - Do You Still Run? Part 3 Increasing Mileage: COMPLETED

Step 4 - Do You Still Run? Part 4 Ho, Ho, Ho-ly Crap.

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