Why have I still not changed the name of this blog to something more appropriate with regard to where we live now? I am no longer in denial. I feel like we have a strong base of friends and activities with whom and which we are very comfortable. I quite like my routine and now that the weather is tolerable, things here are so much more manageable. I am not sure why I haven't changed the blog to something like "Up Before the Humidity in Hell"....I think maybe I just don't care enough? Sometimes I wonder why I continue this charade of writing at all, other than to simply clear my head and blow off some steam so I am not completely irascible with my kids.
I continue to be in awe of my kids on the tennis courts and the coaches relentless patience for them. Our four year old is something out of a bad dream the way he continues to disrespect their authority and wander around in his own world. It is not until I march out on the courts and threated to take away his lifeline-videos-that he will tune in and pay attention. When he does actually focus for 10 minutes, he has a mean backhand and a killer volley. Even with those toothpick arms, he is able to hold up that racket (that is almost as big as he is!) and generate enough power to get it over the net. Poor Gordon, in his easy New Zealand style, never balks at him or ever for a moment loses his temper with this child who is all over the map and haphardly good in his "I don't give a *%$!" way.
Then there is our daughter. The one who cannot stand to be left out of any activity, party, sport or parade. She is a three ring circus out there, running for every ball and dashing all over the clay to make it happen. Her coach adores her, a joy on the court and an encouragement to her fellow players. She is like a light out there, a little brighter and better with each clinic. She loves to hit overheads and loves nothing more to tell us how well she does it.
There is another girl who plays a few courts over at the same time. She is in middle school, maybe, and takes privates from coach Dave. Dave is the ever-confident Brit who is extremely good and though cocky, mild in manner. I love watching him carelessly return the ball to this particular girl. Though she can crack it over the net with some serious force and speed, Dave easily and almost reluctantly can slice through her hits to stop the ball and then simply turn his racquet, as if he were doing something as mindless as flipping a pancake, and catch the ball. Then he serves it up again to her, going easy on her, I am sure. This continues for most of the lesson. He makes he run all over the court for the ball and because she is so good, she can return most everything he gives her, only for him to completely deflate her by not even having to work to return what she has just sent over the net. I have come to love this game, though I don't venture to get out there just yet.
Anyway, another day. We signed Owen up for a triathlon in April since I have to be at the St. Anthony's venue to coach the Team. She is thrilled beyond belief and told me she is ready for a Half Ironman. Easy.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
We Have Arrived
We were invited to spend the day on a boat here in Vero. I never understood the whole fishing and boating community, but I have to say, I think I have a better appreciation of that following and it was a lot less painful than originally anticipated. I think this makes us true Veroites now that we have been initiated into the boating fraternity.
We met up with Mark and Mary and their son, Luke, Sunday morning. I swim with Mark in the mornings, Mary is his lovely wife (who I think is hilarious), and Luke swims in our daughter's lane at the pm workouts. The day was unlike any other day we have experienced here: cold and miserable. The sun was no where to be seen and the wind was fierce and unforgiving. Because the wind was cutting to the bone, we initially decided to forego the boat and just fish on the dock in front of the house, which was spectacular. The kids loved running up and down the "pressed birch" with fishing rods and dead shrimp. They caught tons of puffer fish (which totally blew up and grunted upon being ripped out of the water, only to float atop it when tossed back in), some kind of snapper, and a few others who's names escape me now. Our boy was disappointed to learn these creatures were not going to be accompanying us home to a fish tank. He repeatedly said, "We can take them home for pets." Once he learned this was not an option, he lost interest in fishing and busied himself among the rocks and mangroves.
The view was really beautiful. This particular house was along the river in a very secluded canal, with views of the islands, lush with native trees. I have yet to really see a house here that is less than 3500 square feet. I think that is why people move here...for the space and room to breathe. Of course, I miss suburbia and everything that goes along with it. I don't mind having to hear my neighbors yell at each other if it means I can have a decent grocery store in manageable driving distance. Anyway, the house was a museum, the yard was something out of "Home and Garden", and the boat was impressive, too. We had lunch and cocktails outside on the patio while the kids continued their quest for fish on the dock.
After shivering and suffering in the cold for a few hours of puffer fish catch and release, Mark talked us into going out in the boat. Bundled up in sweats and wrapped in towels, we climbed on board for a trip down the canals. It actually was really cool to see the creatures up close and personal. We didn't see any manatees, but tons of dolphins, blue pelicans, water fowl I am not familiar with, and of course, fish. I am going to count us lucky for not encountering any water moccasins, gators, or bull sharks. Mark tried to dock on an island they dubbed "Luke's Island", because it is their son's favorite. The river has several *several* islands that my Marc keeps threatening to swim to (say it with me: shark bait). These islands are begging to be explored, camped upon (if you are into that sort of tent thing), and picnicked at (some have tables and BBQ pits). All are lush with trees and sandy beaches with no evidence of humanity. They are clean and serene, though flat and tropical, and they left me with a desolate and uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. When Mark could not dock the boat due to the heavy winds and strong current, I was not disappointed. Let's just say I was happy to not have to jump in the shark-infested water to drag the boat up the shore. I was very content sitting where I was on the plush seat with a view of the bridges and traffic passing over us.
When Mark gave our six year old the wheel, her face was to die for: she was thrilled beyond belief to be "driving" the boat. These are the experiences that make this time worth anything at all. These are the experiences I want my kids to carry with them and take in their hearts. Let's be real; I am never going to teach them about boats or fish, so how fortunate for us we have new found friends who are very savvy in both. Somehow, I am finding my way, despite the grief I still feel and the loss that always sneaks back in. When I am not thinking about what I am missing back home, what my kids are losing in school, what our families are feeling without us there, I am trying to appreciate this jaded journey, with my heart for a compass that just does not want to work. It just won't give me a clear reading about where we are to go on this journey. I find I am loving Marc in a way that I never knew I could, a way that defies explanation, but on a level of true soul mates. Is that cheesy? I know. Somehow our love has evolved into something of a necessity, something we just cannot live without. We need each other in a way we never looked to or relied on before. It has become somewhat like an old sweater that is so comfortable to slip into. Even though it may be old and worn, it is the favorite thing that hangs in the closet, the one thing I go back to regardless of the weather outside.
I continue to love my running group and friends. We ran 23 miles on Saturday just for fun. Our first Team in Training workout is this Saturday. I have met all of the participants and I am very excited and encouraged about most of them. They all reluctantly signed on to the triathlon team, since they were really looking for a marathon. Craig is already an awesome assistant coach and I am thankful everyday I was able to cajole him into this mania. We are laughing in spite of ourselves.
We met up with Mark and Mary and their son, Luke, Sunday morning. I swim with Mark in the mornings, Mary is his lovely wife (who I think is hilarious), and Luke swims in our daughter's lane at the pm workouts. The day was unlike any other day we have experienced here: cold and miserable. The sun was no where to be seen and the wind was fierce and unforgiving. Because the wind was cutting to the bone, we initially decided to forego the boat and just fish on the dock in front of the house, which was spectacular. The kids loved running up and down the "pressed birch" with fishing rods and dead shrimp. They caught tons of puffer fish (which totally blew up and grunted upon being ripped out of the water, only to float atop it when tossed back in), some kind of snapper, and a few others who's names escape me now. Our boy was disappointed to learn these creatures were not going to be accompanying us home to a fish tank. He repeatedly said, "We can take them home for pets." Once he learned this was not an option, he lost interest in fishing and busied himself among the rocks and mangroves.
The view was really beautiful. This particular house was along the river in a very secluded canal, with views of the islands, lush with native trees. I have yet to really see a house here that is less than 3500 square feet. I think that is why people move here...for the space and room to breathe. Of course, I miss suburbia and everything that goes along with it. I don't mind having to hear my neighbors yell at each other if it means I can have a decent grocery store in manageable driving distance. Anyway, the house was a museum, the yard was something out of "Home and Garden", and the boat was impressive, too. We had lunch and cocktails outside on the patio while the kids continued their quest for fish on the dock.
After shivering and suffering in the cold for a few hours of puffer fish catch and release, Mark talked us into going out in the boat. Bundled up in sweats and wrapped in towels, we climbed on board for a trip down the canals. It actually was really cool to see the creatures up close and personal. We didn't see any manatees, but tons of dolphins, blue pelicans, water fowl I am not familiar with, and of course, fish. I am going to count us lucky for not encountering any water moccasins, gators, or bull sharks. Mark tried to dock on an island they dubbed "Luke's Island", because it is their son's favorite. The river has several *several* islands that my Marc keeps threatening to swim to (say it with me: shark bait). These islands are begging to be explored, camped upon (if you are into that sort of tent thing), and picnicked at (some have tables and BBQ pits). All are lush with trees and sandy beaches with no evidence of humanity. They are clean and serene, though flat and tropical, and they left me with a desolate and uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. When Mark could not dock the boat due to the heavy winds and strong current, I was not disappointed. Let's just say I was happy to not have to jump in the shark-infested water to drag the boat up the shore. I was very content sitting where I was on the plush seat with a view of the bridges and traffic passing over us.
When Mark gave our six year old the wheel, her face was to die for: she was thrilled beyond belief to be "driving" the boat. These are the experiences that make this time worth anything at all. These are the experiences I want my kids to carry with them and take in their hearts. Let's be real; I am never going to teach them about boats or fish, so how fortunate for us we have new found friends who are very savvy in both. Somehow, I am finding my way, despite the grief I still feel and the loss that always sneaks back in. When I am not thinking about what I am missing back home, what my kids are losing in school, what our families are feeling without us there, I am trying to appreciate this jaded journey, with my heart for a compass that just does not want to work. It just won't give me a clear reading about where we are to go on this journey. I find I am loving Marc in a way that I never knew I could, a way that defies explanation, but on a level of true soul mates. Is that cheesy? I know. Somehow our love has evolved into something of a necessity, something we just cannot live without. We need each other in a way we never looked to or relied on before. It has become somewhat like an old sweater that is so comfortable to slip into. Even though it may be old and worn, it is the favorite thing that hangs in the closet, the one thing I go back to regardless of the weather outside.
I continue to love my running group and friends. We ran 23 miles on Saturday just for fun. Our first Team in Training workout is this Saturday. I have met all of the participants and I am very excited and encouraged about most of them. They all reluctantly signed on to the triathlon team, since they were really looking for a marathon. Craig is already an awesome assistant coach and I am thankful everyday I was able to cajole him into this mania. We are laughing in spite of ourselves.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Disney
Disney was amazing. The course support was amazing. The course, itself, was amazing. The people who ran it were amazing. The whole experience, despite having to get up at 2:45 in the morning, was amazing. The whole weekend was so super fabulous, I am sad it had to come to an end.
We awoke before 3:00 am to get organized and in the car by 3:15 am. We picked up Dr. Marshall, Amy's daddy, in visiting from Atlanta to run the marathon. This was his idea in the first place when we first discussed it back in June at Rock N Roll. I am so glad he stayed on me to sign up back then, because it sold out before summer was over and Marc and I got in, thankfully. It was worth the sticker price and all the headache of orchestrating my mom getting here to watch the kids, and coordinating with Amy and her family to come here from San Diego, and all the other details. It was amazing...did I say that already?
We got to Epcot just after 4:00 am and sat in the car with Marshall, eating bananas and sipping bad coffee. Around 5, we began the long walk to the corrals (as many as A-H and then I stopped keeping track) with the thousands of other people who ran the race. Apparently, the organizers used to do both the marathon and the half on the same day, but it was such a zoo, they have since run the half on Saturday, the marathon on Sunday and the Goofy's challenge of people doing both races on consecutive days in recent years. I wish we would have gotten wind of the Goofy's Challenge before that was sold out, because I think that would have been a cool experience.
Anyway, we began at some parking lot in the dark. We took off under a fireworks display and some major lights and fanfare. They ran us to Epcot, and all around the park in various places, which was so cool because we got to see it all lit up in its glory, with no crowds and the place looking all sparkly clean and serene. It was so different to see all the rides rolling with no one on them, the monorail running with no people inside, and the castles lit and lovely with no one competing for a princess' signature. On that note, when they did eventually open the park, it was fun to see all the people cheering for us and their reactions to the various costumes that runners were in. I am not just talking about all the people who dressed up as Snow White or Buzz Lightyear, but the men I saw in simply their underwear....really, tighty little (and I mean little in the sense of the material they were wearing) whitey underwear. I could tell from the crowd's reaction what was coming up behind me based on how they were yelling and cheering.
I am not even one of those weird Disney Cult-like people, but I could appreciate all of the characters who came out along the way. You know, the people Disney actually hires to walk around the campus and meet and greet the guests? Well, I felt sorry for those poor fools who had to put their arms around all of the disgusting sweaty marathoners who actually stopped for the photo option with them. Yep. Did I mention there were more gay men out on this course than I have ever run with before? I know this because I am a magnet for them, not sure why, but we always hook up and run together for a while and this day was no different. This in addition to my Ironman buddy I ran with between miles 20-26, I had lots of company and companionship the whole way. Marc and I bumped into George in corral A at the start, so he and I ran a bit together. I kind of ran in his long shadow for a while, until I decided he was having a good day and I was not feeling 100 percent still. With a head full of snot and a chest full of gunk, I am still not feeling very well following another bout with some bronchial virus. Basically, I decided to run the best I could for as long as I could, which was about 17 miles. Around mile 18, I began to feel my humanity and the body wanted to shut down.
The support was unbelievable on this course, and they handed out every kind of nutrition one could possibly dream of. I ate some banana (something I never do) around miles 14, 19, and then 24. The last stretch was just hard. There is no other word to describe how I felt, than dead. My little (he was actually very tall) Ironman buddy carried me to the end, as we encouraged each other back and forth to tow the line. Along with a woman who had tattoos all up and down her arms, I had people to pace with to the finish and I was just so happy to have arrived in 3:45 and change. Not a great time, but one minute faster than Atlanta (where I also was sick!Ugg!) so I guess that is okay. If only I could figure out how to avoid the GI issues and still give some fuel to my dying legs after mile 18. This has always plagued me and kills me in the end. Either I eat and have new legs, but a stomach in knots and vomit in the end, or I starve with no stomach problems but run out of gas. It is a dilemma.
Marc did great, though his plantar was killing him with all of the concrete on the course. He ran 6:30 pace until he blew up around mile 22 and finished with his first ever marathon over 3 hours, 3:06, poor baby. I hate when I run that slowly, too. He enjoyed the course and support, but cursed the course makeup, longing for more blacktop or grass or dirt. We both agreed that it was cool to see a lot of backstage scenery and costuming and sets for Disney. We saw so much of the behind the scenes and back country of Disney World we would not have otherwise seen. This race is a Disney geek's dream, so I highly recommend it to anyone out there who is looking for that venue. When I got into the car with Marc (who had ample time to recover before he saw me finish, of course), I could not even talk, I felt so ill. I reclined the seat and layed back, unable to recount any of these stories with him for fear I would vomit at any second. Marc began telling me his account of the day and said he needed an ice cream. Even after he got back in the car from 7-11 and was munching on a Haagen Daaz bar, I could not bear the sound of him crunching it. I really felt as though I might vomit if I continued to imagine him eating anything, so I tried to put my mind in a happy place. I thought about shoes. I thought about the kids. I thought about the people I had seen out on the course. He said to me, "Why do we do this to ourselves over and over?" I couldn't respond, but I was thinking to myself, "Because we love it. We love the marathon."
We went to Disney World today with Amy and her clan and that, too, was so fun. The kids were not disappointed to miss school and instead eat garbage and ride endless rides. It was such a fun day, and Marc kept making fun of all the race geeks who wore their shirts and medals to the park. It was pretty obvious who ran even without the gear, because of the way many of the athletes were walking today, especially around Tom Sawyer's Island, hobbling down the steps and gingerly crossing the rope bridges with tired quads. My legs feel a little beat up, too, but nowhere near like they did after the hills in Atlanta. Next project is Team in Training Triathlon Team that begins next week. I recruited (read:begged) my running buddy, Craig, to take on the bike element so that I am freed up to only give the run and swim workouts on Saturdays. I am so glad he is a sucker and could not say no. Hope that we have a successful and great season the next 12 or so weeks. Go Team.
We awoke before 3:00 am to get organized and in the car by 3:15 am. We picked up Dr. Marshall, Amy's daddy, in visiting from Atlanta to run the marathon. This was his idea in the first place when we first discussed it back in June at Rock N Roll. I am so glad he stayed on me to sign up back then, because it sold out before summer was over and Marc and I got in, thankfully. It was worth the sticker price and all the headache of orchestrating my mom getting here to watch the kids, and coordinating with Amy and her family to come here from San Diego, and all the other details. It was amazing...did I say that already?
We got to Epcot just after 4:00 am and sat in the car with Marshall, eating bananas and sipping bad coffee. Around 5, we began the long walk to the corrals (as many as A-H and then I stopped keeping track) with the thousands of other people who ran the race. Apparently, the organizers used to do both the marathon and the half on the same day, but it was such a zoo, they have since run the half on Saturday, the marathon on Sunday and the Goofy's challenge of people doing both races on consecutive days in recent years. I wish we would have gotten wind of the Goofy's Challenge before that was sold out, because I think that would have been a cool experience.
Anyway, we began at some parking lot in the dark. We took off under a fireworks display and some major lights and fanfare. They ran us to Epcot, and all around the park in various places, which was so cool because we got to see it all lit up in its glory, with no crowds and the place looking all sparkly clean and serene. It was so different to see all the rides rolling with no one on them, the monorail running with no people inside, and the castles lit and lovely with no one competing for a princess' signature. On that note, when they did eventually open the park, it was fun to see all the people cheering for us and their reactions to the various costumes that runners were in. I am not just talking about all the people who dressed up as Snow White or Buzz Lightyear, but the men I saw in simply their underwear....really, tighty little (and I mean little in the sense of the material they were wearing) whitey underwear. I could tell from the crowd's reaction what was coming up behind me based on how they were yelling and cheering.
I am not even one of those weird Disney Cult-like people, but I could appreciate all of the characters who came out along the way. You know, the people Disney actually hires to walk around the campus and meet and greet the guests? Well, I felt sorry for those poor fools who had to put their arms around all of the disgusting sweaty marathoners who actually stopped for the photo option with them. Yep. Did I mention there were more gay men out on this course than I have ever run with before? I know this because I am a magnet for them, not sure why, but we always hook up and run together for a while and this day was no different. This in addition to my Ironman buddy I ran with between miles 20-26, I had lots of company and companionship the whole way. Marc and I bumped into George in corral A at the start, so he and I ran a bit together. I kind of ran in his long shadow for a while, until I decided he was having a good day and I was not feeling 100 percent still. With a head full of snot and a chest full of gunk, I am still not feeling very well following another bout with some bronchial virus. Basically, I decided to run the best I could for as long as I could, which was about 17 miles. Around mile 18, I began to feel my humanity and the body wanted to shut down.
The support was unbelievable on this course, and they handed out every kind of nutrition one could possibly dream of. I ate some banana (something I never do) around miles 14, 19, and then 24. The last stretch was just hard. There is no other word to describe how I felt, than dead. My little (he was actually very tall) Ironman buddy carried me to the end, as we encouraged each other back and forth to tow the line. Along with a woman who had tattoos all up and down her arms, I had people to pace with to the finish and I was just so happy to have arrived in 3:45 and change. Not a great time, but one minute faster than Atlanta (where I also was sick!Ugg!) so I guess that is okay. If only I could figure out how to avoid the GI issues and still give some fuel to my dying legs after mile 18. This has always plagued me and kills me in the end. Either I eat and have new legs, but a stomach in knots and vomit in the end, or I starve with no stomach problems but run out of gas. It is a dilemma.
Marc did great, though his plantar was killing him with all of the concrete on the course. He ran 6:30 pace until he blew up around mile 22 and finished with his first ever marathon over 3 hours, 3:06, poor baby. I hate when I run that slowly, too. He enjoyed the course and support, but cursed the course makeup, longing for more blacktop or grass or dirt. We both agreed that it was cool to see a lot of backstage scenery and costuming and sets for Disney. We saw so much of the behind the scenes and back country of Disney World we would not have otherwise seen. This race is a Disney geek's dream, so I highly recommend it to anyone out there who is looking for that venue. When I got into the car with Marc (who had ample time to recover before he saw me finish, of course), I could not even talk, I felt so ill. I reclined the seat and layed back, unable to recount any of these stories with him for fear I would vomit at any second. Marc began telling me his account of the day and said he needed an ice cream. Even after he got back in the car from 7-11 and was munching on a Haagen Daaz bar, I could not bear the sound of him crunching it. I really felt as though I might vomit if I continued to imagine him eating anything, so I tried to put my mind in a happy place. I thought about shoes. I thought about the kids. I thought about the people I had seen out on the course. He said to me, "Why do we do this to ourselves over and over?" I couldn't respond, but I was thinking to myself, "Because we love it. We love the marathon."
We went to Disney World today with Amy and her clan and that, too, was so fun. The kids were not disappointed to miss school and instead eat garbage and ride endless rides. It was such a fun day, and Marc kept making fun of all the race geeks who wore their shirts and medals to the park. It was pretty obvious who ran even without the gear, because of the way many of the athletes were walking today, especially around Tom Sawyer's Island, hobbling down the steps and gingerly crossing the rope bridges with tired quads. My legs feel a little beat up, too, but nowhere near like they did after the hills in Atlanta. Next project is Team in Training Triathlon Team that begins next week. I recruited (read:begged) my running buddy, Craig, to take on the bike element so that I am freed up to only give the run and swim workouts on Saturdays. I am so glad he is a sucker and could not say no. Hope that we have a successful and great season the next 12 or so weeks. Go Team.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
I'm In the Mood For Malibu...
..simply because it's near me. Yep. The homestead and life is grand. How I feel alive and in love again. Our trip home has given me new life. Not just for the fact that we have caught up with old friends and family, but the whole scene. Never again will I take a mountain for granted. This is my solemn vow to never take advantage of the glorious sight of a hill, a mountain, a valley, a climb.
The time in San Diego was great, running the old haunts with the usual suspects. Lake Miramar, Torrey Pines, Tour De Poway, La Jolla....we did it all. I hated to cancel the final day with the group....I simply was not in the mood for the fanfare. I swam at the pool Saturday and was kind of overwhelmed by the welcoming committee in parking lot and then jacuzzi. I was anticipating seeing some friends who I had connected with, and in some ways, it seemed we never left, but in other ways, the warmth and welcoming and questions depressed me and I wanted to just bury my head in the water and never get out. It is nice to know I still swim in the same lane, and maybe even a little faster (thank you, Coach Don). Anyway, to run with the whole crew at one single workout was to add insult to injury. I couldn't go there and for this reason, I skipped the Thursday morning track workout and opted for runs with singletons every day. It was heaven.
Now, in Malibu, we are delighted by the Christmas spirit that still lingers. Marc and I caught a movie last night and I noted just how beautiful the plaza was decorated in lights. Even though we did not arrive here until the New Year, it still feels like Christmas as the vacation lingers on. I am so happy to be in the midst of family, friends, and good food (organic! Trader Joes!) and then I feel borderline anxiety ridden to have to board the plane on Saturday back to Nowhereville (Paxil, anyone?). I have received so many nice emails from friends in Florida, checking in and wishing us well, asking our whereabouts and when we are returning. Our time here has been so busy, with a full social calendar, as well as dental and doctor appointments to get caught up on. I have hardly thought about our lives on the other coast, apart from the nagging intermittent quandary about the cat and wondering if the house sitters have figured out the lay of the land in that house. "That" house. Even now as I look at what I wrote in black and white, I realize that nothing about that life feels like mine. That is not my house or my neighborhood, or my town. Here is where my heart is. Here, walking through the skeleton of the house my family is currently building atop a mountain in Malibu is where I belong. Wandering through the framing phase was poetic, in a way. I love this stage of the building process I have witnessed so many times, before the house takes on a life and personality of its own. Before it is dry walled and painted and decorated, I love seeing the soul of the house. I love imagining how it is all going to come together again, when the 9,000 square feet of ply wood and pluming are still exposed, how will this become a family's house? Their world? Their home? How does anything become home? How do we come to call somewhere home and believe it?
One of the last emails I read was from a running buddy, Craig, wishing us a Happy New Year and safe travel. He told me the Sunrunners have received the "best Christmas gift of all this year" because our family has joined them in Zero Beach. I felt both elated and nauseated. Happy, of course, because he is so kind and cares so much about us, truly and sincerely. He supports my athletic endeavours and idolizes Marc and his athletic ability, he is always so encouraging. But I am sick because I just want to come clean with Craig and everyone else and tell them how miserable I am, how I just want out of our relationship. That whole line about how it's not them, but it's me and I just cannot do this anymore. ...It's that whole living a lie thing again, where I feel like we are leading a double life; we want to find happiness and fulfillment in one, but we are distracted and constantly pulled away by another one. I never was good at breaking off a relationship, but I was always worse at living the lie, empty and unfulfilled. Maybe I just won't get on the plane Saturday? Avoidance always seems a viable option.
The time in San Diego was great, running the old haunts with the usual suspects. Lake Miramar, Torrey Pines, Tour De Poway, La Jolla....we did it all. I hated to cancel the final day with the group....I simply was not in the mood for the fanfare. I swam at the pool Saturday and was kind of overwhelmed by the welcoming committee in parking lot and then jacuzzi. I was anticipating seeing some friends who I had connected with, and in some ways, it seemed we never left, but in other ways, the warmth and welcoming and questions depressed me and I wanted to just bury my head in the water and never get out. It is nice to know I still swim in the same lane, and maybe even a little faster (thank you, Coach Don). Anyway, to run with the whole crew at one single workout was to add insult to injury. I couldn't go there and for this reason, I skipped the Thursday morning track workout and opted for runs with singletons every day. It was heaven.
Now, in Malibu, we are delighted by the Christmas spirit that still lingers. Marc and I caught a movie last night and I noted just how beautiful the plaza was decorated in lights. Even though we did not arrive here until the New Year, it still feels like Christmas as the vacation lingers on. I am so happy to be in the midst of family, friends, and good food (organic! Trader Joes!) and then I feel borderline anxiety ridden to have to board the plane on Saturday back to Nowhereville (Paxil, anyone?). I have received so many nice emails from friends in Florida, checking in and wishing us well, asking our whereabouts and when we are returning. Our time here has been so busy, with a full social calendar, as well as dental and doctor appointments to get caught up on. I have hardly thought about our lives on the other coast, apart from the nagging intermittent quandary about the cat and wondering if the house sitters have figured out the lay of the land in that house. "That" house. Even now as I look at what I wrote in black and white, I realize that nothing about that life feels like mine. That is not my house or my neighborhood, or my town. Here is where my heart is. Here, walking through the skeleton of the house my family is currently building atop a mountain in Malibu is where I belong. Wandering through the framing phase was poetic, in a way. I love this stage of the building process I have witnessed so many times, before the house takes on a life and personality of its own. Before it is dry walled and painted and decorated, I love seeing the soul of the house. I love imagining how it is all going to come together again, when the 9,000 square feet of ply wood and pluming are still exposed, how will this become a family's house? Their world? Their home? How does anything become home? How do we come to call somewhere home and believe it?
One of the last emails I read was from a running buddy, Craig, wishing us a Happy New Year and safe travel. He told me the Sunrunners have received the "best Christmas gift of all this year" because our family has joined them in Zero Beach. I felt both elated and nauseated. Happy, of course, because he is so kind and cares so much about us, truly and sincerely. He supports my athletic endeavours and idolizes Marc and his athletic ability, he is always so encouraging. But I am sick because I just want to come clean with Craig and everyone else and tell them how miserable I am, how I just want out of our relationship. That whole line about how it's not them, but it's me and I just cannot do this anymore. ...It's that whole living a lie thing again, where I feel like we are leading a double life; we want to find happiness and fulfillment in one, but we are distracted and constantly pulled away by another one. I never was good at breaking off a relationship, but I was always worse at living the lie, empty and unfulfilled. Maybe I just won't get on the plane Saturday? Avoidance always seems a viable option.
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