I Think I Can, I Think I Can

We went on our bike ride out near Sand City/Marina. The bike path is listed in a book called Best Bike Paths of the Southwest. We biked for 10 miles. I only started to fall once, the bushes were compelling me. My arm is still broken so I can't afford to fall on it or any other body part. I am trying to be less of a pansy about biking uphill. Chris says with my gears I should be able to climb a wall. That is the mantra I repeat while climbing up hills. "You could climb a wall, You could climb a wall."

There are so many ups and downs in life, it seems sort of useless to be so resistant to the hills only. I mean, why don't I pitch a bitch about the valleys because without the valleys, there'd be no freakin hills?

I had a good time. We ate lunch at the restaurant that has become our favorite place to eat in Pacific Grove (seriously we haven't tried other restaurants since we discovered this one). Chris ordered chevala preparada, his usual, and I drank ice tea, not my usual. He said, "Aren't you going to drink a margarita?" I said, "I don't think you want me drinking right now." (Or something to that effect considering my "angry drunk" post. I kind of feel as if I might have some anger burbling just below the surface. I'm not sure if I am correct. Maybe what I feel below the surface is warm fuzzies. Whatever it is, it's right there. (But it's not crude oil.) Like I said, I can't tell which direction is up half the time at present. I only bitch when the direction I'm riding is up.

After our afternoon together, I took Chris back to his house and drove back to my house. I am spending a lot of time alone lately. Being alone is a huge adjustment. I don't know when or if I will see Chris again. There are no guarantees. I was alone for two years after my husband died. Before this "break-up" I knew that Chris and I had a thing, like a relationship, a tangible sort of understanding where two people want to spend time together. I dunno, is that out of the ordinary to feel that way? Now everything feels really uncertain. It's like a cancer diagnosis only there's no chemo or radiation. No promise of a cure. No supplements you can take. No non-Western medicine, alternative therapies you can apply. (You just have to wait for someone to get their brain back inside their head! Or come to their senses!) (Oh -- wait, is that those warm fuzzies rearing their heads?)

Sunday night, Chris came over for dinner. We are both used to being in each other's company and I enjoy being with him and he enjoys being with me. (I wonder what makes people change so suddenly, like something out of the blue? Or if they have been seething in silent resentment for 6 months, and not saying anything? And who was that masked man?) I am questioning so much lately. The ground underneath my feet, my relationships with people. I mean who can be trusted? Nothing? I suppose this is a common reaction to having this sort of f.u. bomb dropped.

Late Sunday evening, Chris said he thought that maybe he was going through a midlife crisis. (I am paraphrasing here). Chris didn't recall the phrase midlife crisis. He said he "didn't want to die" and he "had 49 years left" (nice guess) and "wait, maybe this is what I am going through, a mid blahblahblah.") I felt as if light suddenly dawned. I filled in the midlife crisis blank for him because it had been on the tip of my tongue while in conversation with someone else earlier that day. I started doing research on midlife crisis and men. It's a very serious issue. I can't even think of anything funny to say about it except perhaps fuck you.

Chris took some pictures of me, I took some of him, and they turned out good. We had a random stranger take a photo of us too, and what do you know? Chris isn't pushing me away.