A time to run and a time to crawl

Liking someone or not, I will not be rushed. Life is good right now and I'm going to take the time to enjoy it. I'm not waiting on anyone and I'm not hanging hopes anywhere. If a connection is going to be meaningful, then it will click and things will fall into place on its own time.

The guy from last week hugged me when we were parting and said, "I'd been ready to set up a third date with another girl until I met you. Now I'm not that interested. You ruined it! I don't want to see anyone else."

"Aww. You can make another date with her and also keep meeting other people," I told him. "I am... I mean, I feel like when people are getting to know each other, at some point it will feel natural to have the 'let's be exclusive' conversation but until then, it's open."

"I get it," he said. "It's just that I feel a really nice spark here."

We talked honestly and I really like that he seems to understand and respect where I am. So luckily things aren't complicated yet (and no need to make them that way, at least not yet, even if it does make this blog stultifyingly boring; I promise I'll look for some neuroses to discuss soon).

A new tactic: whenever I start to find my heart wandering into old territory, I go tire myself out. I get into the gym and start jogging. If I do this first thing in the morning, it takes my mind off everything. It's great.

I cannot think of an activity I loathe more than running. But I'm DOING it. I started about a month ago and it took 16 minutes to go ONE mile. (Isn't that awful? Snails can crawl faster!) Today I made a mile in 11:50 - still terrible but... better? And it's getting easier. And while I despise every second on that treadmill, I really like the tired feeling in my legs afterwards and the sore spots deep in my rear reminding me the rest of the day that neglected muscles are awakening.

I should clarify that while I hate jogging, running fast is fun. However I can only do the shortest of sprints. I always liked sprinting though. In 6th grade, I entered a race once and right at the start time, my legs buckled and I fell to the ground (I always did get performance anxiety). But I recovered and placed third, which wasn't bad considering how much time I'd lost inspecting the dusty ground up close.

Also as a kid every time my parents would go to the store, the second they parked the car, I would leap out and sprint top-speed to the front door. Sometimes I would zigzag back and forth from the door to them, I had so much energy. I never understood how people could WALK so slow across the parking lot. So boring! (I continued to do this into my 20s which garnered puzzled looks until I learned to mask the urge by leaping onto a shopping cart and sailing across the parking lot. Somehow this was more socially acceptable.)

There's a time to run and a time to crawl. And a time to leap and a time to go foodshopping.

(Sent from my phone)