odds and ends...

The end of something is always the beginning of something else.  How profound!

I traded in my pom-poms for running shoes.    
(Shhhh!  Don't tell "XXXX"  because I test shoes for another shoe manufacturer.) 
I traded in my retirement fund for stay-at-home fun.
I traded in my late evenings for early mornings. 
I traded in my soccer sprints for long distance jaunts. 

And I don't regret any bit of my life.

Once upon a time, I ran a fabulous Millennium marathon in New Zealand.  I met some co-runners that became friends.  Acquaintances, at least.  And five years later, I ran into a fellow NZ marathon runner in New Orleans -- of all places!!!  What a coincidence!  It was the first time in my whole entire life that I had "happened" into someone in a place that neither one of us was a resident.  We were both visiting from different states. 

So, my once-in-a-lifetime coincidence sort of happened AGAIN.  The only difference was that I was in my home state.  But surely, this thing cannot sort of happen again.
Only too bad for me ... it did!!
An EX -- standing front and center -- waiting for the run's starter gun to sound into the atmosphere.  I'm positive it is HIM.  Although it has probably been 16 years.  More or Less.  16 years. 5 months. 1 week.  And 3 days.  Since we walked in opposite directions.  Neither one of us turned around to watch the other one go. 

UGH.
How can I hide?
I am really not in the mood for idle chit-chat, catching-up, grandiosity or introductions. 

I hunkered down in a mob of runners as if to tighten my laces.  Certainly I look different.  Hopefully, unrecognizable?
short hair vs. long hair.
lighter hair vs. darker hair.
glasses vs. lasik
him vs. husband-at-hand
single vs. armed-with-children

And at that moment, HE looked up ... HE directly looked at me as I stood up from fake-lacing ... HE met my gaze ... OHHHHH SHIT ... HE KNOWS IT'S ME. 
Wait, maybe not.  Perhaps, he never had lasik and he cannot 'really' see me?!
And why is HE running???
He wasn't a runner.  When did he start running?  Why would he be running in my hometown?  Why is he here - here?
AND for the record, he still isn't a runner.

Saved by the starter gun.
Mile one.  check.
Mile two.  check.
Mile three.  check.
One-tenth of a mile.  check.
Finish.
Husband.
Water station.

Bib #382 approaches from the wings.  Closer.  My name is being called.  Shouted.  Screamed.  And I am oblivious.  Cannot even hear it - really.  Must be meant for someone else.  This positively cannot be who I think it may be.  But, in reality, it is!

Ex:  "Hey, don't I know you?"
Me:  Blank look.
Ex:  "Hey, Melissa, it's me, a$$hole."
Me:  Another blank look.
Ex:  "Aren't you, Melissa?"
Me:  Turning up fake hearing aid; "I thorry, I not Anissa."
Ex:  Blank look in return.
Ex:  "Huh?"
Me:  Blank look.
Ex:  Now shouting because it will solve my deaf problem, "Seriously, aren't you Melissa?"
Me:  Furiously signing. 
Ex:  "What the h#@% is going on? I just wanted to say hi."
Me:  Turning up fake hearing aid some more.  Signing nothing relevant. 
Ex:  "Ugh, well, sorry."
Me:  Big sigh of relief.

Thank you God for giving me this peculiar talent of signing and using my "deaf" voice!  So weird!  But totally feeling appreciative!  And thank you God for giving me a supportive husband who plays along perfectly with my deaf-play as he fake-signs back to me!