Day 1.2--The first rule of Fight Club is...

Warning for any readers just in this for the tales about how bad I suck at Tough Muddering, today is one of those self-discovery posts. If you're not in for that, today's not your day to read me.

Two weeks after ending our relationship, he's still the last thought in my head when I finally fall asleep at night. Last night, it was our first kiss, that day in the rain. The perfect first kiss that forever ended life as I knew it. My instinct is to crowd those memories out with thoughts of other things--any other things--how much dishwashing detergent I have left and if I need to add that to my shopping list or whether Bachelorette Emily is really in it for love or for fame (I vote fame)or how much fluffier my new happy yellow comforter is and how glad I am to be snuggled up in it. But then I think about that scene from Fight Club when Brad Pitt burns Edward Norton's hand with acid and forces him to feel the pain, not to shut it out, give into it, accept it, because, he says, "it's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything."

I'm a big Brad fan myself--he's right there at the top of my "Celebrities I'm Allowed to Have a Fling With" list (which has been made irrelevant as a result of my divorce and now my recent break-up)--but I think I'd have been a little pissed about having to learn that lesson that way, even if he was the one dishing out the acid.

Anyway, I realize my pain is miniscule compared to that of so many others. I get that, I do. But it doesn't make my pain less real. I offer, too, that having a taste of true love and believing you were one of the few lucky ones to have it the rest of your life, only to lose it, is up there near the top of the "Emotional Pains That Really Suck" list.

I guess some may say it's pathetic or sad to admit that a lost love is still on your mind, and on your mind a lot. I'd prefer to call it honest. Whatever you call it, that pain, that loss, is probably my biggest reason for starting this whole journey. So I expect it will come up a lot.

Letting go requires strength, a kind I don't yet have, but that I'm trying to find. When I let go, I do believe I'll be able to do anything. And I don't need an acid burn on my hand to learn that lesson. (But I'm happy to stand around in the kitchen of an abandoned house with Brad Pitt so he can lecture me about it). Just a tattoo on my foot, reminding me simply to "be happy." That's as close to acid burn as I get.

Borrowing a break-up rule-of-thumb from Charlotte York on Sex and the City, it takes half the length of a relationship to get over it, so by those calculations, my "letting go" moment will time perfectly with the Tough Mudder, which is about 4 months away. Charlotte couldn't have planned it better herself. And let me clarify that by letting go I mean I just want to lose the pain. Not the memories. Not the love. I will keep those tucked away inside a special place in my heart forever. To quote Dr. Seuss, I want to "smile because it happened" not "cry because it ended."

So this morning, on Day 1.2, I am working for the strength to let go.

UPDATE: The Mudderling Bootcamp calls for 3 days of bootcamp circuits and 2 of cardio. I decided to do my cardio this morning and stay on a MWF/T Th schedule and take the bootcamp back up tomorrow. So I ran on the treadmill. And anyone who knows me knows that's almost as painful a torture method as getting eaten alive by mosquitoes while attempting exercises my body was not designed to do. Absolutely HATE the treadmill. I don't get how people do it, and do it for long distances/time periods. All I think about is stopping. Right foot (can I stop now?), left foot (is it over yet?), right foot (how long have I been on here??), left foot (this SUCKS)... But I do have to get back up to being able to run 10 miles. I'm opting to do my runs outside at night with my babygirl leading the way on her bike. So maybe Tues/Thurs will be Stay.Snuggled.Up.In.My.Fluffy.Yellow.Comforter.A.Little.Longer days and I'll tackle the runs at night. That sounds like a nice way to spend the next 137 days.

So let's see how far I can run tonight. The problem with running, however, is that it gives one lots of time to think. Lots of time to reflect, reminisce, analyze...pour that acid on, Brad. Let's do this.