This is amazing.
This is amazing.
It’s misting out, a balmy 45 degrees or so. Otto is leaning up against my legs as all three of us stand on the street corner, using body language to suggest “let’s keep running, mom!”
Point taken. It’s time.
I slip on my handmade wool mittens - a gift from his mom and yet another brutal reminder how intertwined our lives are - and then place my right earbud back in my ear as the left one hangs tangled by my jacket. A couple more words are exchanged, and they mean everything and nothing all at once. “Love Lost” by Temper Trap is playing on Pandora, one of my favorites. Is this a sign? I chuckle to myself, because who the fuck cares. Even so, my superstitious side reminds me to re-Google the lyrics later on.
Otto and I start jogging away in the middle of the damp, glistening street. It’s like a movie. Only 20 steps in, I’m reminded yet again how therapeutic running is and how lucky I am to have Otto Potato happily galloping by my side, even if he still thinks my mittens are toys and tries to bite them. I take a deep breath. A few giant, sloppy tears manage to seep out, despite my attempt to stop them. My mind is racing. Is this really happening?
We keep jogging, taking a left on George Street, about a half mile from home. And then I fall. I fall hard. Fortunately, I manage to keep a hold of Otto’s leash. I am sprawled out on the sidewalk, a crushed iPhone in hand with ripped running tights and a sore bloody knee. I can’t remember the last time I fell. I decide it must have been when I was just a kid on the elementary school playground. Those were the days.
I glance up to see a person walking their dog coming towards me, serving as a welcome reminder that I probably shouldn’t stay in my sprawled-out position for much longer. I feel the heaviness of the situation as I lay there. I just said goodbye to the dude I’ve loved for seven years. The blue-eyed varsity baseball player who fell madly in love with the frizzy-haired varsity soccer player. The most wonderful best friend I could have ever asked for. And now I am lying on the harsh winter cement and the once refreshing mist is turning into a hard, uninvited rain. Otto peers down at me like I’m nuts.
I start laughing. Not crying, as one would expect, but laughing. I’m embarrassed by the fall, but more importantly I am so keenly aware of how cliché the entire situation is: the breakup, the run, the rain, the fall. It’s kind of funny.
Without many other options in sight, I decide to fully embrace the cliché by living it. So with a smile on my face, I get up from my fall. And dog by my side, we keep running.
Carrie Underwood - Someday When I Stop Loving You
…the song that my grandma was referring to in the email below. Thank you, Julie, for your amazing research and investigative skills.
went to college with this dude (THEREFORE IM PRACTICALLY FAMOUS, translation: we are friends on facebook and maybe he was in a class at some point but that’s about the extent). some good stuff though.
it’s over. like over over.