It began in earnest a little over four years ago. I had flirted often enough; a little bit here and a little bit there, but never made the leap to a full blown love affair. I definitely wasn't the type, if there even is a type, and there had never been a desire. Why would anyone want to? Spending hours together, meeting whenever and wherever was convenient. As a friend recently reminded me, I scoffed at the slightest idea of being drawn to that type of relationship. But then I was.
The first real meeting tested me. It wasn't easy, leaving the house in the early morning dawn; the nerves, the concern, wondering if I could really follow through. I was terrified. Questions, concerns, denial and doubt all swirled through my brain. What if I couldn't do it? I would be stranded somewhere, alone, tired and regretting my decision. What would people think if they found out? What would they think knowing I tried and failed or even scarier, tried and succeeded. Being true to my decision I took the leap. We began slowly, but even then it hurt. My emotions were all over the board and then my body responded on it's own; no thought, just feeling. It was exhilirating, terrifying and liberating. My heart beat fast, my muscles tensed, my breathing was ragged, but I felt alive. I felt free. At that moment I knew the affair would continue.
As the house slept, I would wake up, dress just right, choose the perfect shoes and slip into the dark to meet my lover. Each morning our bond grew stronger, my dependence grew deeper and I fell further in love. I was drawn and almost addicted! My days hinged on whether or not we could meet; whether or not I could feel that desire and strength. Morning after morning we would sneak away. Some days we were together for hours, leaving my muscles fatigued and my body sweaty. Other days it seemed only a matter of minutes. The relationship helped my confidence grow and my esteem blossom. I began to like the girl in the mirror.
I would pine for our time together even when it wasn't always wine and roses. We fought when I wasn't feeling the connection. My body and mind would rebel, pushing back against the relationship. Some days my heart just wasn't in it and my mind would wander, but we still met. At times our escapes were therapeutic. My lover gently untangled the stress, the conflict and the worry. Each movement, touch, caress would whisk away negativity. We would finish and my heart would be lighter and I would glow positivity.
We have been apart for a week. Like a vengeful woman sickness swooped in, preventing any time together. As coughs have wracked my body until every muscle hurt, I have yearned. The fever, the fatigue and the headaches couldn't dim the desire. Illogically I feel my muscles atrophy, my stamina wan and hoped for the moment we can reunite. Through the haze of illness, the siren's song of my lover, the run, calls to me. My body aches for that intimacy, my heart craves the dark of pre-dawn and our quiet moments.
My affair will continue with running for years. We will meet whenever and wherever we can, drawing on strength, intimacy, quiet and love.
