Huh.

Right. 

I did Number Twenty now just over a week ago.  I'm still not ready to publicly ruminate on this just yet, which I find confusing.  This is confusing to me because I enjoy being a staunch person where I know where I stand with everything.  I love not wavering.  I love not being wishy-washy.  I love knowing that Who I Am is knowing my Stance on Everything.  However, there's something about that double-decade-number-should-be-a-bigger-milestone-than-it-really-is that has been keeping me quiet as of late.  I'll write about it eventually.....

...but not yet. 

...

I know why I'm writing this.  I know why I'm writing this right now instead of dutifully writing a detailed race report which is what I expect out of myself and what has become the routine and such.  However, I'm jumping over the race report to comment that I'm intrigued with realizing the fullness that is the relationship that I have with running.

I started this blog in a rough spot.  I then realized...oh, who knows...somewhere between May and July of last year that running was this big, damn healing metaphor that would launder me and produce me clean, fluffy and ready for Life, not unlike some pile of towels fresh from the dryer sans softener sheet.  Softener sheets wouldn't help me anyway...I'm too rough, but I digress.

Anyway, me and running...I love us.  We're tight.  We're awesome.  We're compatible.  We've got history and I know this is for real.  However, we're having a rough patch.  Right now running is busy downing some fifth of vodka wrapped in a crinkled paper bag while wearing yesterday's shirt that wreaks of frat guy cologne.  You know that smell - it's sweet and sweaty and shameful and dirty but tries to be innocent, enticing, provocative, catching.  Definitely smells of empty promises and faults on delivering anything and skips phone calls and only does the bare minimum, but tries to look responsible and crisp, but is the receipt got lost in the flimsy plastic bag when the tag was ripped from the collar.  Thank you, come again; crappy, really.

It's OK though.  I love running and know once it has it's own moments it will be back.  I love it, I'm letting it get the space and air and time it needs.  I think I've been avoiding the harbor as a result even.  I saw my first cruise ship the other day, and then more importantly, I saw my first cruise ship sunset edifice orange beat down evening and my heart swelled.

I keep telling people Who Matter that all I need is One Race to make it all better.  Sure, I'm frustrated but I know that once running gives me just that little smile/smirk/nod/graze in this argument, as horrific as it is, I know that it will all be all right and I just need to tough it out.  It will all be all right. 

More about Number 20, and more than that - my first goddamn triathlon of the season quite soon. 

I've been relatively radio silent for too long and there's been too many big thoughts, and more importantly, milestones.