Hit a speed bump today: I am not feeling so hot. It started yesterday in the early evening, in the middle of my ill-advised, ass-dragging, feeble attempt at a training run when there was no way I’d win the race against the darkness. I also went out last night for about three hours even as I was on the decline because I had had the plans for weeks and was seeing friends I have not seen in over a month. There are many reasons why I find excuses to stay home and this year the decision was mostly made for me, so I knew, even in the face of headachey sluggishness, I had to go. I have to admit, I am a total wimp when it comes to feeling ill. Mostly, I just want to lay there and not move, and do some whining, and be mortally offended at the germs who have made me feel less than perfect. So for me, it was HUGE that I motivated.
I picked up a friend and we met the rest of the gang at their bar. Immediately it was wonderful to be with my friends, catching up, hearing about new jobs and new cities, feeling proud of their accomplishments and being complimented on mine and encouraged about the race. I of course explained I was slightly under the weather, so a Hot Toddy was procured for me, which I nursed for the next two hours, but which did feel like just the right medicine. I also downed about three glasses of water to balance it all out.
This group is highly traveled and multi-lingual with the three core friends having met in Spain when they were in college on exchange. Much talk turned to everyone’s latest travels, the sharing of “When I was in New Zealand/Melbourne/Tokyo/Lima/Puerto Vallarta/New York/Miami/Buenos Aires…” let alone the talk of planning of trips for the first quarter of 2010. I love hearing about all the places and sights and food and hotels and adventures and general wackiness. I am not well-traveled, definitely not by their passport stamps, so I was not surprised when I started to hear that sad voice remind me that I have never been to most of the places they travel to regularly, and the miss-out syndrome felt worse than my sneaky head cold. I pitiful wave washed over me… if only I had not gone straight to work right out of college, if only ten years had not passed since the one and only time I was in England, if only I had not gotten married to the wrong one, if only I had bounced back sooner, if only… <sigh>
I got up from those conversations, took a sip of my Toddy, and wiggled in next to my girlfriend who was deeply engaged in some iPhone silliness, so I saw a chance to shake it off and get caught up and giggle with her. A small but extremely meaningful shift, and it totally worked. I was amazed at how she and I just fell into a completely focused conversation about us, and I realized that I was the only one who cared about my travel deficit. At that point, her husband walked in wearing a fake moustache and beard and it didn’t matter if we were sitting on the Great Wall of China or in club in Miami, we lost our minds laughing and then proceeded to pass the fake hair around for all to try on and pose for pictures.
My friends love me for me, not for my frequent flier miles. Our genuine fondness for each other, our shared love of good clean fun, our laughter, our hugs, this replaced my training run for the day. When I am hitting mile 10 next week, possibly in pain and tired as hell, I will think of these faces to put some gas in my tank.
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