March 2018

It's one o'clock on a rainy Sunday, and from somewhere in my building there's a smell of bacon wafting lazily through the air. (Though, ever the cynic, I'm thinking to myself "It's probably not even real bacon...", because after five and a half years in Paris, you know better than to expect real bacon). I've had an extremely relaxing weekend after a busy few weeks, and I've slept well and slept late and I feel good, my laundry is almost done in the laundromat around the corner and I've got plans to see a friend later and go to a movie. I've eaten a delicious brunch that I made for myself with the good whole foods that my body's been craving lately, the cat is purring next to me as I write this, and soon my phone will ring and my favorite voice will be on the other end, calling me sleepily from the east coast to say good morning. After the movie this evening, I'll come home and paint my nails and prepare my lunches for the week and, later, fall asleep tonight feeling rested and ready for the week.

It's been a nice weekend, but it's not the weekend I was supposed to be having, truth be told.

Today I was supposed to be running the half marathon, just as I've done three other years since being here. The first year, triumphant and with all the enthusiasm of a new runner's first race medal; the second year with my best time ever and a slight sunburn; and last year on a freezing day with sideways rain and water-logged shoes and a trashbag covering my torso but the satisfaction of knowing I finished and never stopped running for a second despite the wind and rain and cold.

This year, though, I'm sitting on an unmade bed, and smelling bacon, and listening to the Beatles, and feeling okay with not being there. Kind of.

Well, actually, I'm not really feeling okay with not being there, but I'm trying to let it go and learn from the experience - because isn't that what it's all about, really? When you're newly 28 but still trying to figure things out even though you thought you'd have done that already?

Do you really want to hear the excuses for not running the race? Well,  take your pick: Because commuting for three hours five days a week is tiring and getting up to run before or going to run after feels like the world's most impossible thing. Because it's been rainy and sometimes snowy. Because I haven't been getting to bed as early as I would have needed to. Because my morale has been low for a whole bunch of reasons. Because since late fall I've been on vacation or staycation or weekend trips that interrupt any kind of training schedule. Because my running shoes are shot and I haven't gotten new ones yet. Because because because.

I've been running for fourteen years now, but I've been the queen of procrastination even longer than that. Trust me, I know this excuse game all too well. There is nothing easier in all the world than finding a convincing excuse when the alarm goes off at 5:30 am and it's pitch black outside and there's a purring cat tucked under my arm. It's easy to choose to roll over and snooze the alarm and sleep for another glorious hour. It's easy to convince myself that I need to rest more than I need to run - when in fact the opposite couldn't be more true.

For years, it was easy for me to choose to get up, feet on the cold floor and too-bright lights flicked on and then out the door and thud-thud-thud on the dark pavement, dodging the last late night party stragglers and the trash collection men and the deliveries, soaking up the beauty of a Paris enveloped in black and then almost-grey until finally the day breaks and I'm approaching my front door and I feel invincible and strong and like I'm ready to take on my day.

I used to be that person. If i'm not that person any more, who am I now?

I've never really liked New Year resolutions. It all feels too rushed, Christmas comes and then it's New Year's Eve and then, usually, I'm trying to cram in as much as I can at home in the States before I shuttle back over here and between all the comings and goings it feels impossible to take a minute or two out to think about what I might really need for the upcoming year. So I usually prefer to make my New Year resolutions in my own "new year," on my birthday at the end of the month. But even there, this year, I fell short, and now all of a sudden it's the fourth of March and spring is around the corner and I'm not running the half marathon because I didn't take the time to do what I needed to do to get there. Doesn't that stink? I really think so.

This blog, as I think you know, has always been more for me than for anyone else, and I always wanted it to be honest - which is why entries are so sporadic. When I don't feel like I have something honest or worthwhile to write, I... Don't. Even if I don't know some of the readers as well as others, I'm here today presenting is my mea culpa: this winter I fell short, I missed the mark. Worst of all, I think, is that this all leaves me feeling disappointed in myself. Living alone, it's difficult to distract myself from my own thoughts. When those thoughts revolve around feelings of disappointment or "less than," it can bum you out pretty quickly.

Of course, I hope you'll have realized by now that I'm not this caught up over a stupid race. I've missed races before; missing a race is not the actual problem here. The problem is that among all the wonderful and exciting and sometimes-scary things that have happened this year, and all the wonderful and exciting and sometimes-scary things that I'm planning to do in the next few months, I lost the part of myself that made it all make sense. Those silent mornings in the darkness, the hard wake-ups, the good runs, the bad runs, the short and long runs... A whole part of my life has been missing for the past few months. But finally, I think I'm ready to get it back.

There have been lots of things going on for me lately, lots of decisions have been made and will be made and I spend a lot of my time thinking and planing and thinking, and somehow I let this be my excuse for snoozing the alarm - even though I know full well that there is no better place to think and plan and think than a morning run.

It's not January first, or even January thirty-first, but I've never been great at being on time. For now, I'll enjoy the rest of this lazy Sunday, and enjoy the sound of the rain outside and the feeling of being cozy in here. I really hope it stops raining overnight, though, because tomorrow morning I've got to go for a run. xx