Page 9 of Mr. Green

As I keep running, the sun starts to shed some light on the street. People are beginning to file out of their houses now, running or walking their pets past me. A slim, clean-cut figure locking up his house makes my head turn. It’s Ryan! I run a little quicker, and then he faces me. It’s not him.

Great, now I’m imagining Ryan everywhere. We first met at a new restaurant I made my friends go to just outside Lakebrook. Ryan was there for an alumni reunion in a polo and cargo shorts drinking a beer. We saw each other from across the room. He eyed me for thirty seconds and then came over to me.

A fraternity guy usually has a reputation simply for being in a fraternity, but Ryan seemed different. He had a job, a car, and knew what he wanted out of life—a stable position, a home, and a family. To me, he seemed reliable, sincere, and mature. He didn’t even kiss me that first night; we just talked. He asked for my number and we went on dates the rest of the year. He was the first guy to give me attention for more than a month. It’s always been easy to find someone to hookup with, but no guy stuck around. I’d almost given up on men altogether, sick of their games and fake promises, but then I met Ryan.

We moved in together after a year. It was easy and felt like we were growing together. I saw a future between us and having a life many people dream about—getting a home with him in this very neighborhood. Now the perfect life I thought was in reach is nowhere to be seen.

I pick up my pace, my feet shuffling to keep up. My forehead and the area around my sports bra moisten with sweat. I don’t know if it’s the layers, the memories, or the workout, but the tiny beads form across my body.

I decide to embrace the sweat. I haven’t had a good sweat session since playing sports in high school. I didn’t do track or anything, but they used to make us run a mile for a warm-up. It was something kind of fun; your feet somehow keep the pace and your body stays upright. It felt good. I think that’s why the poster for the marathon caught my attention.

I glance at my watch and have ran almost one and a half miles. It’s been thirty minutes. I did it! I got started and did more than I wanted. I was going to do a mile, but I went beyond. I walk the rest of the way home to cool off. Running home would be impossible.

I have work I need to start on as soon as possible. Plus, I’ll need a shower and something to eat. As I head back to my apartment, I appreciate the sun making several colors through the clouds and the fresh air cooling me down.

Ryan’s voice plays in my mind,“Cardio won’t make you lose weight. It’s all about weightlifting.”Weightlifting is fine, but it doesn’t make me feel like running does. I like the feel of my body moving anddoingsomething. It’s fun. It’s more than I’ve done in a long time. I pushed myself. Was my time a bit slow? Yeah, but I kept moving. Plus, being outside is on my list of healthy things to do.

Running a marathon is the perfect solution to love myself again. I can do this.

~

I’m freshly showered and am in my kitchen, looking over an example meal plan Jason gave me.

Omelet

2 egg whites

1 whole egg

½ cup mushrooms

1 cup spinach

½ cup tomatoes

¼ cup onions

That seems like a lot of spinach. What am I—Popeye? There’s no suggestions for any spices. Surely, I can make this taste good enough to eat.

I add in some olive oil, just enough so the eggs won’t stick to the pan, plus some garlic and sage. I mix in onions and mushrooms then add spinach and tomatoes, hoping the spinach will soak up the flavors from everything else. I add the eggs, unsure why I can’t use all the yolks. Then I flip the pan like I’m a Michelin star chef and add a tiny bit of salt and pepper. I finish it off with some whole wheat honey bread and sit down to eat.

Once I take a bite, I’m in heaven. Sage is the best thing to happen to eggs. I can hardly taste the spinach, as I hoped.

I enjoy each bite, before I put my plate in the sink and start on work. I work from home, mostly. Certain times I need to go on location to get visuals. Staying in and away from people has become my life.

I work on the gym’s books—meaning I handle all the numbers. I’m good with numbers. I can count on numbers. I’ve made adjustments to our logo and website as well. Doing work means I don’t get out much unless I have a meeting or my friends make me. I’ll work here for a while, then I’m meeting with Jason for another training session this evening. I’ll probably end up in the bath before the end of the night, but then I realize, I was going to follow that list from the article.

I somehow have twenty minutes before nine. I can work in a meditation and then do my grateful list.

I grab my phone and click on another guided meditation. Once it’s over, I grab some paper and start writing my list of things I’m grateful for.

My stove. It’s nice to be cooking again.