..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.
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