Page 55 of See You at the Finish Line

“Mmm, spark. We need the spark.”

“We do need the spark.” I’m glad she gets it.

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know. It seems kind of wrong to lead him on.”

“Better let the guy down easy,” Shay says around a mouthful of food.

“Damn. It’s been so long since I’ve had to dump anyone.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Probably a bad thing?”

I haven’t had a real relationship in two years. Just a string of guys like Nate who seem great at first but end up not doing it for me.

I do not think about Adam’s emails.

“So, what about you?” I ask, needing the conversation to switch from my abysmal love life to hers.

“What about me? I’m a Chinese woman in Canada with parents born to think that no one I choose is good enough for me.”

“Fair enough. I haven’t known you for very long, but I agree with your parents. You’re too good for the women here.”

“I know, I’m pretty awesome.”

“Now that I can agree with.”

We finish our breakfast and go our separate ways, making plans to meet for dinner that night. When I get back to my apartment, Q is whining in her crate.

I stay strong, not letting her manipulate me into changing my mind as I kneel in front of her.

“I’m sorry, baby, I know it’s so mean of me to come home and not let you out, but I’ve got to go on a run.”

Just saying the words makes my pores sweat as I go through the motions of getting ready. Muscle memory takes over and before I know it, I’m tying up my laces.

I’ll need to tell my therapist I completely dissociated from this. She’ll love getting to the bottom of why.

We both know why.

I put my earbuds in and scroll through my phone, looking for my favourite feminine-rage running playlist, letting the loud beats of the first song sink into my body. And then I take a deep big-girl breath and silence my phone’s notifications, putting it on Do Not Disturb.

Hopefully that will help. Or make it worse. Who knows?

I lean down to give Q a treat and scratch her head before taking a step out into my hallway. There, I did it. I left my apartment. I may have dissociated while getting ready, but I am fully present and aware of every step I take to get outside.

The cool air of fall does nothing to stop the sweat already trickling down my back. My heart rate is probably in Zone 4 already. I can feel the organ trying to claw its way out of my chest and up my throat. I swallow it back down and push through the rising panic.

My warm-up is a brisk walk and some stretching until I get to the set of paths near my apartment. And then I run. Slower than I ever have before but hey, it’s the effort that counts.

I don’t start my watch, even though I put it on. I only try to pay attention to the music, nature, and nothing else.

Even though I’ve been living in Salt Lake for the past year, Moab still feels like home and Vancouver is Moab’s opposite in almost every way. I’ve traded in rich, vibrant reds and oranges for cozy greys and blues—traded dry heat for humidity. I hear even the snow is different. I’m not particularly looking forward to a wet Vancouver winter.

While Moab is a land of deserts, Vancouver has a rainforest. I didn’t know that until I got here, and I’m currently running through it, drinking the water in the air with my lungs.

It’s another world here, one with lush tropics lining the ocean bay, framed by the mountains and sprawling city.

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