Monday afternoon sees a good session with the weights as I start increasing the weight again and also increasing the repetitions. Afterwords I paint a window, measure all of the windows, watch Sunday's tape of "Desperate Housewives", and then relax for the evening. Though Person C_T and I are supposed to get together on Thursday to figure things out, I keep chaning my mind every five minutes as to what I should do.
On the bicycle commute to work on Tuesday morning I stop for a traffic light at Crenshaw and 190th Street. I notice that there are two guys on opposite corners sitting in lawn chairs bundled up in warm clothing on this chilly morning. Each has a "box" on his lap and they appear to be manipulating the box. At first I can't figure out what's going on, but then I realize that they must be counting traffic at the intersection for a traffic study. As the light goes green and I continue on my way, I establish eye contact with the traffic counter and yell out, "One bicycle"! The guy nods his head and pushes a button on his box. I sure hope that I got counted.
On Wednesday I finish a good session with the weights just as Person C_T shows up at the front door. (Person C_T called earlier in the day to re-schedule to tonight instead of Thursday night.) I sit Person C_T down on the couch and tell him about Person A_M. And how I haven't the faintest idea what is going on right now or has gone on for the past three weeks. Person C_T takes the news hard and we have a long discussion about honesty, monogamy, relationships, forgiveness, and where to go from here. Late in the evening as Person C_T is leaving, it seems as though we both want to try again. And though we both know the last three weeks happened, we're to discount the last three weeks and try again. I get into bed before midnight and pray for direction in life.
I skip the bicycle commute to work on Thursday because I was up late the previous night. But I do get in a reasonable 5.5 mile run before work (with the left calf producing an almost painless dull ache for the last 1.5 miles or so). But there is no physical pain to be felt now.
As I'm riding the motorcycle to work I want to make a lane change to merge towards the carpool lane, but there's a car in the way. But I just don't care anymore so I make the lane change anyway - forcing the car to get out of the way or hit me. I just don't care anymore.
Person C_T has emailed me at 1am on Thursday morning indicating that "I will someday find it in my heart to forgive you, but..." And so now I begin the post-Person C_T phase of life.
I have not been shaving for a few days now. By Wednesday a number of people make comments about my look. And I respond with, "With the things that are going on in my personal and professional life, I have not had the confidence to put a blade to my throat without doing some significant damage". By Thursday a number of people have made additional comments to the effect of, "Didn't get the confidence back I see". I've got a great heroin hangover look going - unshaven for a few days and hair intentionally skewed all over the place after pulling the motorcycle helmet off.
By Thursday night, after getting home and doing some grocery shopping and some doorway painting, I receive an email from Person C_T that says, "So, please, can we try again?" The rollercoaster continues. And late in the evening we have a 90 minute phone call as we try to decide what to do.
On Friday I leve work early as I'm being unproductive and I just want to leave. As I'm making the turn on the motorcycle onto my street I see the schoolteacher ChiChi (Person A_M) escorting a child to a parent's car. (I came home early because I thought that Person A_M would be deep in a lesson plan and there would be no chance of me running into him.) Person A_M sees me coming and smiles. I slow down, gesture to him to call me, and then continue home.
Because of this recent emotional trauma I get in a great session with the weights as I try to burn off stress. I then mow the lawn, go for a long walk, and do the laundry. During the laundry Person A_M calls and we have a 17 minute conversation where I suggest that we actually go for a bicycle ride rather than other activities. I'm in bed and asleep near 9pm because I want this trauma to end.
On Saturday I'm up early to get a 5.5 mile run in before the Long Beach Grand Prix. The left calf hurts for most of the run though I'm able to make it be less severe if I run on the left side of the road with the crown of the road decreasing excessive pronation. Is it time to get my orthotics adjusted?
I hang out at the Long Beach Grand Prix practice and qualifying with various bosses, ex-bosses, and co-workers. I cheer, of course, for Justin Wilson, aka the Flying Giraffe. He qualifies in fourth place for Sunday's race - a good result. The remainder of Saturday night is spent handling calls from Person T_U, Person C_T, and Person J_VKPI. And I'm in bed before 9pm.
On Sunday I get out for about an hour bicycle ride before reading the newspaper and painting more door trim on the inside of the house. And finally, what I've waited months for, the first MotoGP motorcycle race of the season from Jerez, Spain. The race is exciting and the two rivals trade first and second place a number of times during the last lap. Finally, valentino Rossi makes a desperate move that involves cotnact with his rival to win the race.
I get out skating in the sunny but chilly afternoon for about an hour. As I'm driving home Person C_T calls and says that he's at my house. So I hurry on home and we do what people do on their anniversary (as this is our 9 month anniversary). And then we relax with the newspaper and televsion and movies until later. But I am tired and I have Person C_T leave near 8 pm so that I can be in bed by a bit after 9 pm.