Two Roads Diverge in a Yellow Wood I know ...

Nine years ago, a bleached, spikey haired soccer player with skater pants and an affection for punk music sent me an instant message on the now antiquated AOL. Those words set me on the path of life as I know it now. “Do you want to go running?” The first time he asked, I said no. He was obviously in better shape than I was and I did not want to embarrass myself. After all, I was his RA; I had to save face. I believe it was the second time he asked that I agreed. There I found myself, running uphill beside this guy I barely knew; huffing and gasping for air as he leisurely jogged beside me, pretending that it was much more than a stroll for him. I tried to carry my end of the conversation he was intent on having and found that I really liked this guy that, by appearances, I had little in common with.

After our runs, we would sit under the stars and talk. These were the “get to know you moments” that I love to think back on. I learned that he liked to eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Chubby Hubby after a run - in one sitting! My preference was Chunky Monkey. Being the lady I am (and with a much slower metabolism), I often opted not to gorge myself on ice cream. What I did not realize in those early days is that this guy I found easy to talk to was falling in love with me. I had never known love and didn’t know what to look for. From his experiences, he knew what he wanted and, it would seem, he had found it. Me.

So it began. And so it is. Brad no longer bleaches his hair, his musical repertoire has broadened and his pants have gotten skinnier, but he still has a great smile and the charming personality I fell in love with. Think back to our favorite B&J flavors. He’s my Chubby Hubby and I’m his Chunky Monkey. It was meant to be.

Thank you Brad for asking me to go running.