Love is in the Air

Disclaimer: I haven’t really been writing about matters of the heart.  I got mixed reviews.  Some people thought I was being a little too open and perhaps sabotaging any potential relationship.  I hate to admit they are probably right, but it’s such a big part of my life and my journey, I’d be remiss if I didn’t reflect on my feelings of love. 

It’s that time of year again; Valentines Day is peaking around the corner.  Facebook status updates of new romances blossoming, big pink and red hearts and other images of love surround me.  Even Sheldon Cooper celebrated his first long embracing kiss with Amy. Usually this single girl hurls at the very sight of all of this mushy love and display of affection and adoration.  I’ve also been known to lock myself up and hide my tears in my dark self -pity single cave. Oh and then there was the year I was at a Valentines Day function with my friend Susan and drew my infamous painting I labeled “Chronicles of My Jaded Broken Heart.”

I’ll admit I still look at it all a little wistful and wonder what is it other women have that makes them loveable.   However, this year is a little different for me.  I’m not completely sure why it’s different. I’m not dating, which actually takes the pressure off. There’s nothing worse than starting a new relationship around Valentines Day or any holiday for that matter. There’s the awkwardness of do we have to celebrate and if we do celebrate what is the expectation.  I’ve come to realize if a man runs with his tail between his legs and doesn’t acknowledge it (or any holiday) then he’s probably not into me anyway.

I think I am less cynical and melancholy about the approaching love fest that surrounds me because of my declaration this is my year of transformation.  Part of my transformation is to take an official break from dating.  After years of dating Mr. Wrong or Mr. Maybe and ending up sad and a little more broken than I was before I’ve decided I need to withdraw from the game for a while.  The year of the horse is my year to focus on self-love, not to be confused with selfish-love or selfless love.  While I am as independent and self-reliant as they come, I was raised with the old school mentality you need to be this and that for a man to love you.  Couple that with my accommodating easy going personality when I am dating, I end up doing foolish things and sometimes even self-harming things to make myself fit into his world.  Last fall I had that epiphany moment after a night of driving around at insane hours of the morning so I could mesh.  I was hit hard in the face with the realization the only person who cared about my personal safety and well-being was me.  We’ve all been “That Stupid Girl” at some point (http://www.broadjam.com/artists/songs.php?artistID=6085&mediaID=472458)  

It was the moment I recognized, as much as I adored the man I was dating, I loved me more. 

Only a month and a half into my journey and exploration for self-love/self-care I have discovered a whole new world of happiness.  I am transforming to the fullest extent.  I am spending my free time away from curriculum doing the things I enjoy and make me happy: learning to play the banjo, learning to paint, spending time with friends and family, doing little house projects, going out and listening to live music and just appreciating all of the beauty that surrounds me.  I think my discoveries will make me a better partner when it is time to start dating again.  

I am encouraged by my song of inspiration for the year, “There’s Always Time for Life,” by Randi Driscoll (http://www.broadjam.com/artists/songs.php?artistID=6085&mediaID=570680 ).   

Whenever I get sad or I start longing for the pieces I feel are missing I listen to it and am reminded to focus on the gems in my life. 

Why are you so caught up on the things that make you mad?


All the things that make you bitter used to make you glad. 


Why are you so fixated on all the things that you don't have? 


Look at what you do have.

I am also less sarcastic about Valentines Day this year because I’ve rekindled the sociologist within me.  I am taking extra time to recognize and observe all of the beautiful couples I know.  It’s uplifting to admire them, learn from them and celebrate their love. 

So bring it on St. Valentine…I’m not afraid of you anymore. The world of couples will be celebrating together and me…well, I’ll have red spoons in hand and will be having the time of my life listening to Cowboy Mouth with my dear friend Jen.  Fred will certainly remind me “I’m glad to be alive.” 

Surf City Marathon—Michael’s Race

For most runners Surf City is just another marathon, but those 26.2 miles have a very special place in my heart. You see two years ago I decided to take on the Beach Cities Challenge, 3 full-marathons (Surf City, OC and Long Beach) in one year for a special medal.  Surf City 2012 was my first marathon in the series.  I vividly remember that race. A fire sparked within me, my pace was perfectly in sync.  Somewhere around mile 13 a ladybug landed on my arm. He hitchhiked right there for about 2 miles. For those who know me well, you can appreciate how magical that moment was.  The stars were aligned and everything seemed to come together perfectly.  I set a new PR that day.  I was flying high and on top of the world.

The message I listened to on my phone the next morning instantaneously grounded me.  The words I heard were a grave reminder how curious life is.  In being alive, like a roller coaster, there’s a slow climb to the top and then without warning in the blink of an eye we are plummeting toward the bottom of the hill.  The downward descent takes our breath away, holding on tightly we can’t help but feel a little helpless and hopeless. We’ve all been there before.  In our existence we can’t always predict when the wind will be taken out of our sails or how long it will take us to get back to the top. We can only pray by the grace of God our moments at the bottom are quick and painless as possible.

The news I received that my cousin Michael had passed away just a few short hours after I had finished my race left my heart (our hearts) shattered and broken with a gapping hole that will never be repaired.  Knowing that Michael took his life with his own hand still haunts us, family and friends, who loved him dearly.  There are so many what ifs.  What if we would have told him how much he meant to us and how much we loved him? What if we could have showed him like a roller coaster ride, we all fall down and even if it seemed so impossible our arms were there ready to help him stand up again?  There are so many whys.  Why didn’t we see the signs?  Why didn’t we call him and check in more often?  Why did everything seem so wrong?  Why couldn’t he hold on until the storm passed?  There are so what ifs, whys and questions that forever remain unanswered.  All we are left with are our cherished memories of his laughter, his smile, and his loving and kind heart, the tears in our eyes and our broken hearts we know will never quite be the same.  

Yesterday’s race was my second since we lost Michael.  I have to admit it was a very emotional start and finish.  I was already feeling sad and the images of sheriffs walking around with bomb sniffing dogs, a reminder of the Boston Marathon victims, engulfed me into another wave of sadness.  I didn’t fight my heartbreak; I didn’t even try to stop the tears that rolled down my cheeks. 

There weren’t any hitchhiking ladybugs to provide me with inspiration, but inevitably whenever I started to feel like I couldn’t run another step Michaels song, “A Warrior’s Call” by Volbeat, randomly played on my iPod.  Every step, every mile, every minute, every hour I thought of Mikey.  I dedicate my finish to his loving memory.