Running the High Road
I have been drafting my weekly blog (in my head of course) while running on Sunday mornings. Yesterday, as I started training for a repeat of last summer’s half marathon, I thought about how great it felt when I was ascending the big red bridge. It was hard, it hurt like hell, I couldn’t breathe, but I knew it would be worth it on the other side. So what does running have to do with divorce? Other than an alternative to drinking oneself silly while getting in shape which is always a good f-you to the ex? Well, that brings me to my point. Many of my divorced posse is angry, even vindictive. The bigger the f-you the better. Amicable divorce is the mother of all oxymoron’s. Some fantasize about their exes being dumped by the new girlfriend/boyfriend. Financial ruin? Or a nice STD perhaps. One guy tells me how his ex wife gets migraines. “When they hit, I still put my arm around her even now. And I close my eyes and pray…”Aneurysm please, aneurysm please”. Okay, he’s kidding. Right? Another friend’s “was-band” is a pilot. She gets giddy at the very mention of wind shear, micro-bursts, lightning or ice storms. Again, she isn’t serious about the whole crashing thing but she did cut just enough threads on his uniforms to ensure at least one button popped off per flight. Okay, a little bitter, but brilliant. According to most therapists (the posse compares notes), these feelings are actually normal. As long as you don’t hurt anyone or go soprano and hire someone else to. But just because its normal, where does wishing pain, death, herpes and heartbreak on your ex get you? Nowhere. Fast. As I think back to last year’s race, when I was looking down proudly at the bay from the top of the bridge, I wonder, “so where does the high road get you?” At the very least, to the other side. Hopefully to the finish line. And possibly, to some kind of personal victory. So am I going to take the high road? Damn straight. I’m going to sprint it.