Rolling along

I realize that every time I run is not going to feel like a religious experience. Some days, it will even downright suck. Like yesterday. The track was sludge city because of the rain. Not pleasant to run on. I survived two laps and decided it was a pointless endeavor. Maybe today will bode better for me.


Not that I'm broken up about it or anything. It's hard to be dissatisfied with the life I lead, though it can sometimes seem to slip into the doldrums of routine. Little keeps things interesting enough, but it's amazing how quickly toddlers become creatures of habit. It's like it's wired into our brains, as humans, that we must follow consistent schedules and expected patterns. As the parent of this toddler, I think it's great (and it does throw me off when she occasionally decides to shift her pattern), but at other times, it can lead to the same old thing every day. Good because of consistency, bad because I like a challenge every now and then.


We go to the same places, see the same people, and go on with our busy lives. We know many people, but how many of them do we really know? Acquaintances, friends, people we see several times a week, we know their names, their childrens' sleep schedules, what they did this past weekend, but it doesn't go deeper than that. There's a disconnect there. Keeping everyone at arms' reach. And there doesn't necessarily have to be more depth, but I do miss that more intimate type of friendship upon which I relied in the past. You know, the hours spent talking over ice cream? The late-night discussions over coffee? The place to go to vent all those womanly worries, frustrations, insecurities that no one else would meet with quite the right amount of understanding, compassion, support, and advice... The place to share all those hopes and dreams.


Well, perhaps I don't really need that last part because many of my hopes and dreams are my reality today.


Fortunately, I do get to share in a different kind of intimacy. Paul and Little are the closest people to me, and while they cannot understand me the way another woman, the way another wife and mother can, they are my life. Last night, we spent over half an hour rolling on the floor, laughing, tickling, playing, the three of us together. I wanted to etch that moment onto my brain and heart for all of eternity. They bring me a fulfillment that I cannot find anywhere else. Maybe that's enough. Maybe it's more than enough. Maybe it's everything.