there is a reason.

i am a big believer in fate: everything happens for a reason. i believe this. the people we meet, the jobs we have, the interactions on the street, everything happens for a reason. call me naive, but this view on the world most certainly keeps me going.

i only took up running about five years ago. not, mind you, because i LOVED the idea of running. after college, i snuck into my university's gym for well over a year after i graduated. the guards all waved me past the entrance, and i smiled and bought them coffee and talked to them and was, genuinely, all shades of chummy. well, one day, the head guard, darryl, told me he was going back to his family and his country and the next day this new prick took his spot. i guess i was hoping that one of the other regulars would take it, but not so much: new guy wanted to see my current student id., which i clearly didn't have. i persisted and tried to talk my way out of it, but he called the supervisor who told me that not only was the campus for current students, but, noting my shorts in december, that the gym was for current students and *paying alumni.* i was crushed. my free ride had ended. so. sad.

so, the next morning, i awoke at the ass-crack of dawn and ran for the first time around my little neighborhood. and, over time, i got relatively good at it-- who knew. during my lunch hours a few days a week, as you'll note, i'll do the loop in central park. about two weeks ago, i ran, not literally, into a guy with whom i went to high school. he, my dears, was the track star for the year ahead of mine. the package: smart, really handsome, and an all around nice guy. and, like i said, the track star. there i was back in the day with the unfortunate hair, poor social skills, and, well, i wasn't running. but there HE was, at the very yummy smelling, but naaaaaaaaaasty, street vendor 'meat' cart getting the 'meat' product du jour. and i'm careening from the gym to central park and pushing out of my way little old ladies and mothers with strollers and corporate executives, and, well, him. we locked eyes. i looked away. he looked at my legs and back at my face (and in the last ten years, grew a buddha.) clearly we recognized each other. i kept going trying to remember his last name (it finally clicked around cat hill). the following monday, same guy, same cart of meat, and same stare. do i say something? like my friend from the subway a few posts ago, he was not only one of the cool kids, but he was all shades of wholesome. now, he has that look that kevin spacey had in american beauty, that clearly-sold-out-and-angry-about-it look. that, 'i wish i had a job that afforded me the opportunity to run on my lunch hours, too' look.'

and here i sit on the railroad coming back from marge's after a day at the beach (it won't be lovely for too much longer, kids), and who gets on but the track star. (looking fine in a suit ;-) one more viewing and i'm going to give in to fate and say hello. there is a reason we've crossed paths...