Posts Tagged ‘commitment’

Day 24: The Great Love Affair (30th Birthday Countdown)

As a countdown to my 30th birthday on March 18, I’ve committed to offering 30 people, things and experiences I want to celebrate from the last 30 years. Grab a piece of cake and enjoy reading!

It all started with the shoes. The man wore great shoes. Not your typical upscale LA leather loafers, either. We’re talking fluevogs. I didn’t know at the time that shoes like this even existed. So I did what any self-respecting girl from Jersey would do: I ridiculed him. He didn’t flinch. Rather, he came right back at me.

My heart skipped a few beats.

But I was distracted. I was conducting a lukewarm long-distance thing with a guy from Philly and there was this California boy I had a crush on. Plus my stepmom was dying of cancer. I was certainly not looking to add anything else into the mix.

But like I said – he could take as well as he could dish. It turned out he was also brilliant. And beautiful and athletic and artistic and generous and thoughtful.

And I fell hard. And he fell hard.

Then this whirlwind of a love affair that seemed to be so ill-timed due to death and divorce and age and the whole complicated mess that is life became a relationship and then an exchange of engagement rings and then there was cake and dancing and a honeymoon on Vancouver Island.

It’s been nearly 10 years and I am still having a great love affair that causes my heart to race and my eyes to light up. I still think Scott’s the cat’s pajamas, the person everyone really should meet. He’s the one I’m eager to come home to, the man I always long to sneak away with.

These are gifts I never anticipated I’d be celebrating when I turned 30. And yet here I am.

So thank you, love, for being my co-conspirator in this amazing tale of romance. For being willing to tell the same transformative story with me over and over again. Maybe we can slip away to the Mediterranean this weekend – just the two of us – where we can laugh late into the night and go shopping for Spanish shoes…

From This Day Forward

I awoke today to find that the dishes had been done, a love letter was waiting for me and my husband was offering me a smiling face and a warm hug.

Nothing terribly unusual there.

Except that today is our 7th wedding anniversary.

Wedding Photo

Part of the anniversary ritual in our relationship involves my expression of astonishment: Can you BELIEVE we made it another year?!?!

Scott rolls his eyes and says yes, yes he can believe that we’ve “lasted” this long, he fully anticipated it and would I kindly have a little faith.

But here’s the deal: Scott always wanted to be married and imagined himself married. It seemed a pipe dream to me. You can read about some of my commitment issues here. And you can also know that as of this year or next I will have officially been married longer than my parents.

There’s something more, however, that I’m finally beginning to understand. My yearly exclamation is not just about disbelief or family history or fear of commitment. It’s also about putting lifelong commitment in its place, which is to say that a generative marriage is among the most difficult, challenging and awe-inspiring feats two people can create together. Not only does a marriage that really works for both partners require love, shared values, hard work and a whole lot of room to make mistakes; it also takes being in the right place at the right time. It requires luck.

Said another way, exclaiming my surprise at another year of marriage is a simple act of humility.

I can’t wait to celebrate these last seven years with Scott. I am so proud of them, of my choice to marry him, of the choice I have made every day since then. I look forward to celebrating year eight, too, and years 12 and 19 and 45. That’s what having faith means, isn’t it?

Just like today, however, I know I’ll be amazed. Surprised, even. Nearly in disbelief.

Watch the Jiggle

The context:

My husband, Scott, ran his very first marathon this past weekend in Lake Placid. My brother, Conrad, is also a runner. More to the point, he always has advice and, if he cares about you, he shares it.

Appreciating how difficult it is to run long distances, my brother sent Scott a motivational email prior to race day. In addition to pre-race breakfast suggestions like eating condensed chicken soup and pancakes (really, Con?) and the need to pick out a hidden tree so as to avoid long port-a-potty lines, Conrad addressed the mental game that all runners must deal with.

My favorite advice:

Watch the jiggling rear of the woman in front of you.  Sure, there was the more traditional counsel of trying to figure out how long it would take my other brother to get sunburned on the family trip to the beach this summer; or making sure to not even allow the tiniest bit of negativity to enter the mind. But this piece of wisdom just captured my imagination. Clearly.

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The result:

It turns out that Conrad’s specific jiggle advice wasn’t what proved to be most helpful. The Lake Placid Marathon is only 5 years old and, as such, only had about 300 people complete the entire 26.2 miles. The other 2,000 participants ran the half-marathon or dropped out. Once the half-marathoners headed toward the finish line and the marathoners turned around for their second 13-mile lap, the road was a lonely one. When I saw Scott at the 20-mile checkpoint, he was running solo. There was no jiggle to be had.

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The analogy:

On the long drive home from Lake Placid, I was sharing with Scott how I can become overwhelmed in my business. Get There From Here has grown steadily since I hung my shingle 2.5 years ago and I find that being a one-woman operation is growing old.  I sometimes feel like I’m at mile 20, with no one else around and all I notice is the burn in my quads and the way my shirt keeps chafing my neck.

So I asked Scott how he did it. Having never run further than 20 miles and having trained for a mountain race on the flat streets of Philadelphia, how did he convince himself to keep going? To not even break for a walk?

Turns out Scott did watch the jiggle – when it was around. He also tried to calculate how long it would take for that other brother to get sunburned on the beach. But mostly, he refused to entertain even the tiniest negative thought. The moment one showed up, he did as Conrad suggested and replaced it with something positive.

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The takeaway:

I’ve decided to refocus. The burning quads and chafing shirt are simply part of the deal. It’s what I signed up for when I decided to start my own business with no prior experience. But there are people out there with funny signs that say things like “watch the jiggle.” And there’s the fact that I’ve managed to grow a business in this economy. And there are my amazing clients. And there’s that abiding sense of satisfaction. And . . .

If You Like It

I didn’t notice my fear of commitment until college, when a kind friend suggested that yes, I could actually make plans on Thursday morning for Friday night. I didn’t need to keep my options open. In retrospect I can see the fear surfacing in any number of ways. I was always hedging, waiting, resisting.

And then I got married and have remained passionately so for nearly 7 years. And then I moved to a new city and have lived here for over 4 years. And then I stopped quitting jobs and have successfully created and loved the business I started three years ago.

And then two weeks ago my life was just so great right where it was that I made a big fat commitment to it and bought my first house. The morning after moving in? I wake up and almost immediately burst into tears.

You see, I live in the city, and the new street apparently has THE MOST RELIABLE BUS SERVICE in the whole world. Additionally, every public school in the area must send their outdated buses careening down our street between 7 and 8am, jarring their brakes to loosely respect the stop sign at the corner. In other words, it’s a little noisier than my previous city street.

Upon hearing of my woes my wise friend, Maria, said, “Oh, you just haven’t gotten used to the noise yet.” Her comment was almost flippant, really, and this flippancy made my day. Of course! I just hadn’t gotten used to it yet!

And she’s right. Seven days in, I now sleep like a rock (albeit with the windows closed and earplugs in, if  in bed past 7am).

Which is why (excluding the feminist critique for now) I agree with Beyonce: If you like it, put a ring on it. Commitment to anything generally takes some getting used to. But if my commitment to my marriage, to my business and to my city has taught me anything, it’s that life is simply richer and more satisying as a result.

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