Sometimes I just can't help myself. You know how something happens to you, or you plan something and it totally and completely takes over your life? Where you have moments where you shake your head at other people because don't they KNOW that your flugelhorn recital is on Saturday? This is a big huge major deal for me, but for me. Not anyone else. I'm obsessed with it because I've spent the past four months' worth of weekends running for hours at a time. Weeknights of 7 and 8 mile runs, in rain and snow and dark. I have clothes with Gatorade stains (and man, that stuff can stain). I am sunburned and freckled and on my second pair of running shoes for the year. I'm closing in on 400 miles logged on my Garmin. So yeah, big huge major. But aside from Mr. Bump and a couple of close friends, no one else is bound to get it. It's day after day of not just the runs themselves, but planning runs, researching gear and fuel, and stretching. Oh the stretching. And if you didn't have a ringside seat for all of it, picking me up with a cooler full of ice packs and chocolate milk, making dinner because I don't get home from my after-work run until seven o'clock, always asking me "How was your run?" and buying me pepper spray after that one dodgy by the train tracks run--well then of course you don't get it. My marathon is just way too early and too far away and right smack dab in the middle of your Sunday morning.
But that's ok. Because I know your trip to South America or your dog training class or Mother's Day aren't on my radar, but they're your big huge major deal. And I probably won't appreciate how hard you've worked, or how much energy went into your big huge major. Maybe because you haven't told me about it, or I haven't listened well. It may even be that we haven't connected lately enough to know what's going on with each other. And that's just how it goes.
Just so you know, Mr. Bump will be there, Mrs. Bump my mother-in-law will be there. My parents will be there. Mr. Bump's aunt will be there. I'll get plenty of love and cheers. And every single person I've heard from that can't come? They've all promised to keep me in their thoughts Sunday morning. The security guard at work who's from Boston and has run the Boston Marathon 3 times? He's going to be thinking about me and wondering how I'm doing. My co-worker the triathelete? She's going to remember me when she's out on her Sunday morning run. And you all--I'm sure you will too. So what am I whining about? I have absolutely no idea.
I'm glad we had this talk. I feel so much better.