Ghosts

I am haunted by the ghosts of my memories;
The regrets for things said and done, or not said, not done;
The remembrance of a touch, a tender word, the way the flowers looked as we picked them;
The warmth and softness and passion that moved from your lips to mine, and back again to you;
The feel of your skin against mine, the smell of you on the nape of your neck;
The sunsets shared, the food enjoyed, our hands intertwined;
There were adventures gone bad, laughing in bed, talking with the covers pulled over our heads;
Making love after just the right amount of red wine, the taste of sweet chocolate still lingering on our tongues;
Can't forget running together every week, the way you looked under the water when we dove from the boat and swam side by side, lying on the beach feeling happy, close, in sync;
My fingers know your curves and trace them still in my mind as I wake alone in the middle of the night;
First time snowshoeing, crunching through the drifts, drinking warm lemon tea as we lay beneath white blanketed trees;
Fireworks and thunder showers, blizzards, and moon rises, I ran naked in the rain to make you smile;
Waffles for breakfast, coffee together every day, dinner with candles as you came home to me;

These ghosts they come when I first wake each morning;
They slip through my mind as my bike travels familiar routes that now seem strange when I cannot ride home to you, be greeted by your smile, your smell, your eyes saying you were mine;
The spirits tear at my heart, already broken with grief, when I run, my feet left wanting that they cannot share the same path as yours;
I drive through town, the memories come, I spot you sometimes and am afraid of the darkness that drives sobs from my body and tears down my cheeks;
I understand loss, but am unable to reconcile not knowing why, not understanding your feelings, nor you mine, you having no desire to ever talk, be friends, or even acquaintances.
I gave all I had and I know it may not have been enough, but I haven't been able to accept that after all we shared I am left with ghosts, but no farewell, no real good-bye;

My ghosts have no form, but they unsettle and hurt nonetheless;
I cannot banish them, am unable to find an escape;
Hope for the future sometimes holds them at bay, but not for long, not enough to feel relieved.
They fill me with fear, make me hollow inside, my only relief comes when I finally succumb to sleep.

Transitions

My sport is triathlon, which means that I swim, bike and run. For an Olympic distance race I’m in the water for about 25 minutes, on the bike for just over an hour, and then I run for about 40 minutes. For a half-ironman,  the swim is a little longer, but the bike and run are more than twice as far, with the race totalling 70.3 miles. I train year round to maintain my fitness and, hopefully, improve each year. What most people don’t think about is that the races also include the transition from one discipline to the next. As an athlete I not only train each event, but I also practice transitioning from the swim to the bike and from the bike to the run. Even so, putting socks on wet feet and trying to run and jump on a bike is definitely awkward, and I have never looked clumsier than when I fall over trying to remove a wetsuit as fast as possible.

My point is that even though I practice transitions in my sport regularly, it is still difficult to do it with poise and composure. Just over a week ago I competed in my first race of this season, the Mooseman 70.3 half-ironman in Bristol, New Hampshire. On race morning it was 41 degrees as I went through body marking and prepared my gear for the race. The water temperature in Newfound Lake was about 60 degrees, which is cold even in a wet suit. As I finished the swim my feet were numb and, most likely, my brain was too. I took twice as long as normal to get my wetsuit off, put on my bike gear, and wrestle to pull arm warmers onto damp arms. The extra couple minutes that I spent in the swim to bike transition translated into finishing 8th instead of 6th in my division at the end of the race.

Transitions in real life tend to be even more problematic as they usually surprise us, the consequences are of much greater import, and frankly, most of us don’t do drills to improve our ability to cope. Life transitions are stressful because of their ambiguity - we don’t see them coming and we don’t know what the outcome is going to be……very often they also involve some kind of loss or grief, and that adds another dimension to the situation.

I went through such a transition earlier this year when my three year relationship ended unexpectedly. The woman I was living with and whom I loved very much seemed to be withdrawing more and more from our relationship. It wasn’t clear why and she wouldn’t talk about it. On the outside we were still friends, lovers, and partners.  However each passing month I felt as though our connection was weakening and that our interactions were increasingly superficial.  I tried to take up the slack and worked harder and harder to make our life good, but she that effort didn't seem to make much difference. She had two young kids and I had been living with them for a couple of years, perhaps she just didn't have enough love inside to give to her kids and to me. Nothing was bad, but things weren’t right either and not being able to talk about it left me feeling isolated and unloved. Eventually I moved out in an attempt to force the issue (bad idea, by the way), she broke off the relationship, we never did talk about why, and I was left to move on, to transition.

It was hard and it really hurt. The pain and suffering of my longest races is done in about 5 hours and maybe I'm sore for a few days after.  When my relationship ended my sense of loss and failure hung on so much longer. I feel like I’m through the dark times now, but I think it’s important to thank my friends and daughters who supported me during that transition (and who cheered for me at Mooseman!). I also think it’s important to recognize that transitions are hard on our hearts and our bodies and our minds. We need to be good to ourselves as we go through the motions. For me that meant lots of time with friends, regular massages, daily affirmations, and lots of sleep.

My sport helps keep me grounded and focused on the moment at hand, as well as on the future. One of the keys to success in any sport is visualization…..you have to see the outcome you desire and the motions required to achieve that outcome. Life transitions, while so much harder and more complicated, still benefit from focusing on the future, from believing that, as a good friend said to me not long ago, this too shall pass. Today, with that in mind, I am looking forward to a future that once again includes a committed relationship.....one characterized by gentleness, openess, love, caring, friendship and romance.

That's a transition I can't wait to make.

Musings from the hammock, Doubleday Inn B&B, Gettysburg PA

I'm lying in a hammock strung between two old growth shade trees on a green hillside overlooking Gettysburg College in Eastern Pennsylvania. It is sunny and warm, high seventies, with the blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds drifting by the B&B where I'm staying. There are irises in bloom on the hillside below me, bleeding heart along the path behind me, and birds singing all around me.

A little while ago I sat on the hardwood pews of the College Chapel, sunlight streaming through the stainglass windows, and watched my daughter receive an award for the research she has done while studying Biochemistry and Molecular Biology. Apparently her investigations into the effects of nanoparticles on cell membranes was considered the most promising and useful research done at the college during her tenure. Tomorrow she will graduate with honors, and like her sister, make me even more proud by embarking on post-graduate studies, her in medicine, her sister in law.

This morning, before the ceremony, I rode my triathlon bike away from Gettysburg, through the Battlefield Monuments and out into the Pennsylvania countryside. I rode past farms, over rolling roads, and then into orchards of apple and pear trees. I made my way through the village of Ardentsville and then climbed steadily through a narrow valley that had a large creek flowing through it, the trees arching over the road. I was in cool shade, but could see the early morning sun hitting the tops of the trees on one side of the valley, the light bouncing through the leaves, soft and dappled by the time it reached me on the road. I rode past an ancient but still working saw mill, the smell of cut wood in the air, glacial stones occasionally causing the road to wind this way or that to make the ride more varied.

Eventually I reached the summit of a high plateau, the grasses already several feet high. Past a vineyard, over rougher surfaces I pedaled until I reached a high point where the road I was on led me to another that turned back towards Gettysburg. Down I raced, reaching speeds around 50 mph, back to flatter territory where my spinning feet powered me along, toward my daughter, her boyfriend, her sister, my ex-wife, and her family.

It has been a very nice day and I have remembered, for the most part, to stay in the moment and savor it. Lying in the shade, swaying with the afternoon breeze, a chocolate chip cookie in my belly, warm tea by my side, a good book to wile away the time, I feel content and at peace. I do wish I was with a lover, that romance awaited me tonight over a candle lit dinner, and up the stairs to the cozy room at the Inn.
I know that will come. For whatever reason now is a time for me to be free, to recover, to excel at my sport. I will enjoy this time while also looking forward to my next relationship, to the woman I will kiss, caress, please, laugh with, snuggle to, and love.

But for now I feel a nap calling to me in my hammock and I am going to succumb.

Sleeping with the door open

I have been thinking a lot about fear of commitment and what its effects are on those of us contemplating meeting people and possibly beginning new relationships.

This morning I came downstairs at 5 AM to get ready to go to the pool for my swim workout. My front door opens into a small entryway and then there’s an interior door that leads into my downstairs. On nice afternoons and evenings I often leave the front door open to let more natural light in through the storm door. Apparently yesterday I did this and I must have closed the interior door before going to bed. I normally lock up at night and you can imagine my surprise to find that my home had been “unprotected” while I slept.

One of the reasons I like living in Vermont is that it’s relatively safe. Bad things can happen anywhere, but in much of Vermont it is still possible to leave your car unlocked, to sleep with the windows open in summer, and, apparently, to leave your front door open all night.

I would like my next relationship to be similar to living in Vermont, safe and comfortable, where the norm is warmth, and openness, and honesty. I don’t want to have to be guarded with the one I love and I don’t want her to be that way with me. I think for two people to actively and deeply love each other, it has to be safe to leave the door to your heart unlocked, with each person sharing in the responsibility of letting that openness illuminate their thoughts, desires, dreams and feelings. When we give into fear, when we deadbolt ourselves behind layers of protection, we may be safe, but we are also isolated. 

I’ve been alone too much of my adult life, safe but not deeply and emotionally connected. Having two daughters helped me to be more open with my feelings. As a divorced person it can be hard to face our fear of commitment, our fear of getting hurt another time. I don’t have any amazing advice except to say that three years ago I took the risk again. I fell in love and let myself open up in ways I never had before. That relationship didn’t go the way I hoped and it hurt a lot when it ended. But having let myself be receptive to love, I now find that I am less afraid of loving again and I am excited about what lies ahead for me.

I guess I am learning to be comfortable sleeping with an open door and that thought makes me happy and optimisitc about my future relationships.

Morning Rain

I awoke this morning to the sound of rain outside my window. There was just enough light to see the trees with their newly sprouted buds swaying in the wind. A quick check on the time showed I had a few minutes before I had to rise and head out into the weather to exercise.

So I burrowed back under the covers and placed my hand on your hip, my nose close to your hair so I can breathe you in. I run my hand up your back and under the hairs at the back of your head and you make the contented sigh of someone who knows they get to stay in bed for another hour on this stormy dawn.

It feels so good to be close to you, to communicate in the early morning light by tender touch and silent affection, to have that certainty that you are my friend, lover, and life partner. It is nice to be reassured by our intimacy at the start of the day.

Of course, the problem is that I’m imagining you, and as I head out the door to log my training miles in the warming, but still cold and wet Vermont Spring, I wonder when I will meet you, or if I already have but we haven’t figured out yet that now, in this time and in this place, we are meant for each other. I have to go out of town on business today; maybe you will be on my plane, or maybe I looked into your eyes briefly as I was getting coffee today, or perhaps you drove past me as I was running, dripping with rain and sweat, or maybe you’re out there on Match or some other virtual meeting place.

Wherever you are, know that I am living as best and as fully as I can in the moment. You fill my dreams at night and, ever the optimist, I am on the lookout for you as I go through each day.

Spring at Last

I took today off from work to do a long workout, outside, in the glorious spring sunshine. I started at On the Rise Bakery in Richmond after fueling up on their coffee and treats. The air was crisp and cool, fresh in a way that makes it feel so good to take deep breaths and be thankful that the winter is coming to a close. 

I rode toward Huntington and on the way noticed that all the trees have buds on them now, people are out raking and preparing their gardens for the growing season, and the countryside just seems to be waking up. My route followed rivers and streams, the water crystal clear and very cold, rushing along full with snow melt. I went past the Huntington Alpaca farm where all the animals look freshly sheared and happy, like me, to be out in the April sunshine catching a few rays. A Canadian Goose sitting on an island in a series of swampy tributaries honked at me. I think an older lady in a car did as well along Route 116.

I descended Route 17 going very fast and I can honestly say that I felt grateful to be outside and I had an overwhelming sense of being free……flying down the road, no longer confined by winter, not worried on this day about work, or money, or anything really.

I wish you could have been there. That was, perhaps, the only thing missing. I am ok with being alone, comfortable in my own skin. Nevertheless, I do spend a lot of time by myself and I often wish I had a special person with me to share things with, or perhaps to meet me later for tea to hear what I saw and felt during my day and tell me about hers. Is there anyone out there looking for that too?

Tempranillo Anyone?

Today was Saturday, but after a morning workout I had to go into work. Around 2:00 I took a lunch break and stopped in at Fresh Market. There are two checkout counters in Fresh Market and while I was paying for my food, I noticed a couple in the other line buying a bottle of Tempranillo and a few other things.

There was nothing remarkable or unusual about this man and woman; they weren’t old or young, amazingly attractive or starkly plain, but they were smiling, holding hands, obviously enjoying the afternoon, the place, each other, and whatever they were going to do later that involved that wine. Seeing them and that bottle on the counter reminded me that I don’t spend my Saturdays or Sundays the way that couple was spending theirs.

I work and I exercise, I take care of my pets, occasionally I have a dinner party or get a drink with a friend after work. I manage my affairs and I make sure my daughters, away at college, are doing ok. I have a life, but it is not a life, not a way of passing the time, like that of the couple enjoying their Saturday afternoon. This is not to say that those two are happy, well off, have their health, or any of a million other measures, but in the moment I saw them, they were happy and they were together and they did have something in mind for that Tempranillo and for each other.

What I am looking for is to have plans for later that involve a good red wine, satisfying food, and the nearness of a gentle, soft, kind and beautiful woman who smiles at me as we leave the grocer, who dances with me even when the only music is the two of us breathing together, who talks with me and laughs hard when something is funny, who is good with roughing it on a 4x4 trip across Canada so we can dress up in our best and enjoy all the urban fun in faraway Vancouver, who dares me to try to outrun her on a summer morning workout or outsmart her on a winter night of Scrabble, and who accepts me for who I am and for who I am not.

That may seem like a lot, and in the short run it is......I'm willing to start with being friends, with getting to know one another, and with just having fun in the moment. But I have my eye on the future and I think I know what I want.....