I don't know why, but when I run, I think of the oddest things, and have the weirdest ideas - most of the time it is fortunate I can't act on them immediately because the bulk of them are bad. Just this morning, as I was racing through a wind storm, trying to avoid being decapitated by flying tree branches, I thought of how unfair it was that writers must force inspiration to meet the deadlines of life. Then the evil manager in my head said "Don't complain, do something that inspires you every day!" and I thought "Hey! This is why I run!" and I was laughing so hard over my intelligence I almost didn't make it home in time to get ready for school.
Later today, on the treadmill at the gym, I was thinking about my ex-boyfriend. Well, that and the embarrassing moment earlier when I ran into the guy's washroom to pee because the girl's was busy, and one of the popular prick-ish boys in my grade saw me ducking out... but that is beside the point. I was thinking about my ex, and thinking about the potential of us possibly seeing each other this Thursday when he comes to the high-school to do a firefighting presentation.
It will have been the first time in half a year since we've laid eyes on each other. I alerted all my friends about it today, and they quickly volunteered to glue themselves to my sides, meanwhile threatening to do vulgar things to his unmentionables, assuring me I didn't need to be scared, assuring me of their physical protection. I am scared, that much is true, but not in need of them to keep me from harm. I am confident my ex wouldn't dare to touch me.
I told them because I have to keep face now that I hate him and that will keep me from seeking him out, because. But as my feet pounded on the rubber belt and my ears pounded with a sad melody I listened to over and over again during the break up, I thought about sending him a message to see if I could skip my first class in the morning to have coffee with him down at our favorite cafe. But as I quickly realized, that is a terrible idea.
Because the reality of it is that one hour of talking to him wouldn't do any good, it would depress both of us and make me lose what little self respect I have left. Because the reality of it is that it has been a whole year and I'm still holding on to something, terrified I'll fall when I let go. My ex has become training wheels with flat tires, they keep me up, but prevent me from moving forward, holding me back from my true desires.
Because the reality of it is that I have a wonderful boyfriend now, who's falling more and more in love with me every passing day, and until I let go of my past I'll never be able to return the feelings.
Because I'm a strong, smart girl who can laugh while sprinting, and I'm crippling myself with a limp of regret.
Because I'm better than this, and though I've written "Goodbye forever" to my ex-boyfriend and then come back over a thousand times, the reality of it is my pen is finally running out of ink.
It's time to stop running.