First Times

A week or so ago was all about lasts. Last run before the marathon, last long run, last few miles. Now, it's all about firsts. First time running with short hair-two poofs are the new rage! First time going to a debate tournament. First time on the boardwalk in Asbury Park. First time putting my hand in the water in New Jersey.
I've heard that a lot of people like firsts: they are new, exciting and different. A routine-hound, regulated like I often am, firsts are scary to me. They represent an unknown, a deviation from my planned-outness. With all of these firsts, and with so much in flux and so much no longer routine and comforting, anxiety has been my almost-constant companion.
But running along the boardwalk, eyeing the beach and feeling the sun on my bare arms and back, I came to peace with firsts, at least for the time being.
With a great soundtrack, I zipped along a completely flat out and back, planning my strategy for my afternoon's work in my head and smiling at those who stopped and stared a bit - it must have been weird to see someone running in heavy Lycra tights and a sports bra but I hadn't packed for such clement weather! A bit over 45 minutes.
And then dinner at the same restaurant as last night. I can't deal with too many firsts, even in my newly accepting state.