when two people inevitably go their separate ways, it is always hard for someone to 'start over'. the familiar quirks or annoying habits are suddenly missed, and these individuals begin to take on a newsweek magazine 'person of the year' quality that is irreplaceable. fortunately, humans, no matter how co-dependent, are fickle, and after thinking that no one could ever live up to my dad's shoes, i was able to find a worthy replacement.
and then she moved to asheville; suddenly i was shopping around for someone else to run with who met criteria for: lethargic pace, parallel neuroses, and compatible views on start times (4am is not an acceptable hour to become acquainted with lactic acid).
and then i moved.
magazine columnists assert that after a couple of rebounds, the 'one' has usually either been right under your nose and/or (subsequently) not what you were expecting. i have officially found myself another blonde to cover the many miles of asphalt with. he gives me a reason to get out of the door (turning the living room into a post-apocalyptic movie set at 5 o'clock every day is too exhausting for all parties), maintains the aforementioned pace due to his dwarf-like inside leg measurement, and also appears to garner the same level of uninvited attention from motorists, pedestrians, and canines, to keep a building site busy for a week.
he is, however, unable to relate to my chafing woes, but will happily sniff at them, or any other runner we happen to encounter.