Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Hi, remember me? The flabby, fortysomething soccer mom? The one who decided to transform herself? Well, guess what? She's baa-ack...
Let me bring you up to speed real quick. Imagine you and I are getting on our treadmills, side by side, and we're setting the pace at a comfortable, brisk walk. One where we can still hold a conversation without panting. You ask me,
"Why'd you quit blogging, Rikki?"
I'm quiet for a second, thinking back, thinking about how and where to start. Then I say,
"I think I got Life Block. I had decided that Run Rikki Run should be a public blog. I felt that my journey, and my struggles, had potential relevance for women in general, and I think I was adjusting my tone, and the amount of detail I shared, to a public forum.
But what was going on behind the scenes was the very private and painful breakup of my 18 year marriage. Painful especially because of the effect it had on my three children. I was stumped on what to say in private, to the people I love most in the entire world. Stringing words together in a blog for public consumption suddenly felt trivial and self-indulgent. So I quit blogging."
You take a minute to digest this. It kinda makes sense. You know that my kids are teenagers. That's the time when it's supposed to be all about them. Mom and dad are supposed to be fixtures in the background, ready to dispense money or food, ready with a ride or a bailout, but otherwise silent, stationary. Props on the stage where they are the shining star.
You also know me well enough that you're aware that the marriage was never really happy. That we always chafed against each other, Ty and I, no matter how committed we both were to the goal of a lasting marriage. And you know that, at one point, I had a seven-year plan. That I was going to wait until my baby was out of high school to end the marriage.
"So what happened to the seven-year plan?", you ask. My baby is going into 8th grade. I'm about six years ahead of plan at this point, given that Ty and I have been separated for well over a year now.
I smile, then turn my eyes back to the control panel.
"It went out the window. Some things happened in Ty's life that showed me he was as unfulfilled in our marriage as I was. He tried to minimize, even deny, what was going on, and I believe he did it because in his world, that was the right thing to do. Keep the nuclear family intact at any cost.
That was right for him, and I respect that. It wasn't right for me. I had been checked out of my own life for a long time, to the point where it was even affecting my relationship with the kids. The absurdity hit me full-force. If I was staying for them, but I was too emotionally numb to connect with them, why the hell was I staying? So I woke up, and I walked out."
You give me a sidelong glance, like "give me a break". I smile apologetically.
"No, you're right. It wasn't that easy. And I wasn't that cocky. There were times of doubt and times of sorrow. There were a few intense "discussions" between me and Ty. There were many, many nights when I cried, alone in my little apartment, feeling like I had lost the kids, like I'd go back, endure anything, just to hear them making noise in the next room.
And there were other times where I felt like a selfish bitch and a bad mom for having chosen for myself essentially a part-time single life, with dates, parties, and a social life.
But in the end, it boils down to this cliché. Change is the only constant. I could have sat passively by, and let the changes happen to me. Instead I chose the verb. I chose to change. I chose to make the changes. And the weight loss and fitness changes were a crucial piece in the puzzle."
By now, we've walked three miles. Time to get off. But I will be back with you, my friend. Here on the treadmill, and when it cools off, outside on the paths and sidewalks. And here on this blog. Because there are more changes to talk about.