I flinched as the cold wind bit my cheeks. Water filled my eyes, and I blinked back tears that meant nothing. With a temperature hovering in the mid twenties, and a wind chill in the high teens, it seemed the sun was completely ineffectual despite the brightness. Never the less, we set out and laid down 5 miles on the icy pavement. They weren’t effortless, but they got done.
We were having a double date, My Run and I. It was nice to go out with another like-minded pair.
I’ve been exclusively dating My Run for a few weeks now.
It’s going well. There’s no drama with My Run. Ok, ok, I admit that there’s some drama: I’m borderline obsessed with My Run. Since we are old friends with a long history, it’s been relatively smooth to just step into a full blown relationship again.
Not that it’s without any tension. Mmm. There’s all kinds of chemistry here.
I’d mention our run together the other day as an example, except I don’t want to run and tell. Suffice it to say, afterwards I was sweaty and laughing, and My Run was very satisfied with the effort.
|yeah, I work on the 6th Floor|
I am reminded of something Professor Holton, a badass cyclist, often says about cycling, “It never gets easier, you just go faster.” That quote applies to My Run too. Not that speed is the ultimate measure of awesomeness. A hott figure is another measure. Or is that spelled hot?
So yesterday, as I climbed the stairs at work, I realized I was only doing it for my run. My run likes a strong a**. It’s kinda My Run’s obsession. That, and strong hips. And don't get me started on what I'm doing in an effort to get a more Run worthy core. Planks, handstands, etc.
I guess what I’m saying is that I’m intentionally changing my habits for the benefit of my partner.
Further fueling my concerns, My Run and I are chasing our dreams together again, but we are doing it at the exclusion of others. I turned down a date the other day with a man, because I wanted to spend more time with My Run. Maybe it was also because he wasn’t someone who I wanted to spend time with, but still... I suspect my mother would have an opinion on that.
This intimacy, this commitment, this everything... well, it rocks on so many levels I can’t even begin to explain it. It is deeply satisfying to be monogamous with My Run when there is no real race on the horizon.
It’s selfish feeling, but in a healthy way.
Except, here’s the question that haunts me: Can selfishness be healthy? Is there a time where selfishness is the right choice, especially when it leads to awesomeness?
Do we, as a culture, place too much negativity on selfishness?
Or, am I just justifying my selfish behavior of late?
And My Run and I don’t have the answer to any of those questions.
We will just keep getting up in the morning and going out together. We will take the stairs so my assets will be stronger. We will sacrifice our sleep. Sometimes we will join a group, and sometimes we will go it alone. Sometimes we will even rely on mechanical assistance to get us through our miles when we pound it out on a treadmill.
I’ll worry about the selfishness later.
~ savor the run ~ respect the distance ~