Saturday, November 3, 2012

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do


 “When I had to stop running, it was like a breakup.”  Jill J.

I don’t know about you, but I suck at breakups.  Good thing I’ve been married for 18 years and am as in love with my partner as ever.  But back in the day, I managed to shred every bit of respect and possible friendship with ex-boyfriends.  My friend Lesley is on good terms with all of her exes, inviting them over for parties where they even mingle with one another.  Me, not so much. 

Here’s my pattern:  decide it’s over, but am not sure how to break it to the person.  Behave incredibly badly so he breaks up with me instead.  Feel terrible and make him feel terrible too.

I broke up with T the summer between 10th and 11th grade. I dated one of his friends who had a Camaro (okay, it was the 80’s), and then felt sorry for T and got back together with him.  Whereupon he borrowed 50 bucks from me and left town with no further word.  I stalked as best I could, but to no avail.  So I ended up eating loaves of Roman Meal bread the entire summer, gained 10 lbs., and experienced a plummet in grades and self-esteem that I haven’t seen before or since.

Then there was B.  Handsome motorcycle rider, independent at 20 years old, living on his own with a pit bull (don’t judge; Veda was sweet).  I abandoned my first semester at IU to move in with B (now you can judge).  After a year, I moved all my stuff back to my parents’ house without telling B.  I’ll never forget the devastation on his face when he came home and saw that I moved out.  I honestly thought it would be easier that way, but needless to say, abruptly ending a year-long relationship without any advance notice did not exactly inspire a drama-free scene.

And finally, there was G. You’d think I would have learned something with the previous two experiences, but no.  I knew this relationship was limited, but it was fun and kept me from being lonely.  Then I met Nels (whom I later married and still am to this day), and I tried really hard to extricate myself from G.  G didn’t make it easy, though.  I broke up with him, then felt sorry for him, got back together, and then broke up again over the phone.  He left multiple nasty messages on my answering machine. Nels heard them and said, “I would never say that to you.”  And he hasn’t.  Ever. 

It’s clear that breaking up in a caring, thoughtful way, where all parties agree that it was the best thing, is simply not in my repertoire.  I haven’t seen or talked to T, B, or G since, and it’s probably clear why.  But as I consider my newest breakup, with marathoning, I hope this time is different, and we can still be friends.  I still intend to run, but I’m aware that the romance with long distance is gone.

Marathoning and I talked it over, and it’s clear we are on the same page.  I no longer have the same devotion and commitment to it.  It doesn’t want a half-assed effort on my part.  We even decided to part friends.  I will visit as my partner continues to run long distances with his eye on the coveted BQ (Boston Qualifier), and I will continue to run, albeit without a watch and without regard to weekly mileage. 

However, marathoning and I agreed to maintain our relationship until last weekend.  Just as warring couples stay together for an important event, like prom, a friend’s wedding, or a visit with the in-laws, marathoning and I had a long-standing date in Washington D.C. for the Marine Corps Marathon.  For the third and last time, we braved the mileage, soreness, and salt-encrusted skin together. 

In my innocence, I thought we had parted friends.  As befitting a split between real lovers, and my previous relationships, this last event was long, painful, and full of doubt and hurt.  Despite the inspiring location, prodigious crowds, and reasonable training, I was miserable much of the time, trying to find excuses to quit.  Adding injury to insult, I just found out I have a stress fracture in my left foot.  I guess I still have much to learn about breaking up gracefully.  

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