Today, Mike and I are celebrating three years together. I enjoy anniversaries of any type because they give you chance to reflect on the progress you’ve made in the past and realize how much things have changed.
The past year was certainly filled with ups and downs, as we transitioned from a couple in a long-distance relationship to roommates. We discovered a lot about each other, learned to co-exist in the same living space and developed ways to tolerate each other’s annoying habits. At the same time we grew individually, working towards achieving personal dreams and goals, as the other quietly supported and encouraged the pursuit.
While thinking about our anniversary, I began contemplating other anniversaries which afford us the same luxury of reflection. Most momentous occasions have anniversaries: we celebrate becoming another year older, the importance of our parents, our gratitude freedom and the protectors of that freedom - the list goes on.
But once we move past these society-wide anniversaries, there usually aren’t any anniversaries to celebrate the unique relationships which we purse as individuals.
I think my love for baking is likely wired into my genetic make-up. It is no coincidence that some of my earliest recollections are of being in the kitchen with my Mum, pretending to make miniature-sized versions of whatever she was creating.
Nowadays, I see my mother in me when I am happy to spend an afternoon baking delicious goodies, trying new recipes and cherishing the traditional ones. It the outlet which allows me to create and perfect. My love for baking has never been and never will be in question: we are soulmates.
On the other hand, my relationship with running was not nearly as natural. During my first three years of high school, I absolutely detested running, as it was a big part of conditioning for the upcoming field hockey season.
I don’t think I can put into words how much I hated running; I was slow, it was always hot and I just wanted to play field hockey. But, a coaching change during my senior year began to turn the tables. Running was the only the only time I had to mentally prepare myself for the disorganization and inefficency which were our practices.
In college, running and I had a love-hate relationship. I went through times where I absolutely adored running; I would run every day, every week. This infatuation would usually last about a month. And then I hated running. My running shoes would collect dust until I again needed a way to burn off stress or extra pounds a few months later.
After college, running and I really developed our relationship. Within one week of graduation, I had been transplanted into someone else’s adult life. I was lost, homesick and probably a little bit depressed. I was a young female who had left her family behind to purse her dreams in NYC; but there was nothing romantic or unique about this characterization – this described thousands of other young females I trudged to work with every morning.
I felt like I wanted to run away and never look back. So I put on my running shoes.
Running and I are now in a much stronger relationship than ever before. As soon as I accepted running for what it was, not as a tool for conditioning or for combating extra calories, it became something I couldn’t live without. Sometimes we meet-up for lunch, other times we see each other before dinner and every weekend we spend more time than usual getting reacquainted.
The meetings are sometimes dreaded and sometimes craved. Our relationship will be put to the test many times this year and in-between we will have to learn how to better prepare for the next. The relationship takes a lot from me, but the reward is always much greater than the sacrifice.
This afternoon, running and I enjoyed a lunch date. This evening, baking and I will enjoy creating chocolate pudding with espresso whipped cream. And tonight, I will celebrate three years with someone who whole-heartedly accepts all my other relationships.
The past year was certainly filled with ups and downs, as we transitioned from a couple in a long-distance relationship to roommates. We discovered a lot about each other, learned to co-exist in the same living space and developed ways to tolerate each other’s annoying habits. At the same time we grew individually, working towards achieving personal dreams and goals, as the other quietly supported and encouraged the pursuit.
While thinking about our anniversary, I began contemplating other anniversaries which afford us the same luxury of reflection. Most momentous occasions have anniversaries: we celebrate becoming another year older, the importance of our parents, our gratitude freedom and the protectors of that freedom - the list goes on.
But once we move past these society-wide anniversaries, there usually aren’t any anniversaries to celebrate the unique relationships which we purse as individuals.
I think my love for baking is likely wired into my genetic make-up. It is no coincidence that some of my earliest recollections are of being in the kitchen with my Mum, pretending to make miniature-sized versions of whatever she was creating.
Nowadays, I see my mother in me when I am happy to spend an afternoon baking delicious goodies, trying new recipes and cherishing the traditional ones. It the outlet which allows me to create and perfect. My love for baking has never been and never will be in question: we are soulmates.
On the other hand, my relationship with running was not nearly as natural. During my first three years of high school, I absolutely detested running, as it was a big part of conditioning for the upcoming field hockey season.
I don’t think I can put into words how much I hated running; I was slow, it was always hot and I just wanted to play field hockey. But, a coaching change during my senior year began to turn the tables. Running was the only the only time I had to mentally prepare myself for the disorganization and inefficency which were our practices.
In college, running and I had a love-hate relationship. I went through times where I absolutely adored running; I would run every day, every week. This infatuation would usually last about a month. And then I hated running. My running shoes would collect dust until I again needed a way to burn off stress or extra pounds a few months later.
After college, running and I really developed our relationship. Within one week of graduation, I had been transplanted into someone else’s adult life. I was lost, homesick and probably a little bit depressed. I was a young female who had left her family behind to purse her dreams in NYC; but there was nothing romantic or unique about this characterization – this described thousands of other young females I trudged to work with every morning.
I felt like I wanted to run away and never look back. So I put on my running shoes.
Running and I are now in a much stronger relationship than ever before. As soon as I accepted running for what it was, not as a tool for conditioning or for combating extra calories, it became something I couldn’t live without. Sometimes we meet-up for lunch, other times we see each other before dinner and every weekend we spend more time than usual getting reacquainted.
The meetings are sometimes dreaded and sometimes craved. Our relationship will be put to the test many times this year and in-between we will have to learn how to better prepare for the next. The relationship takes a lot from me, but the reward is always much greater than the sacrifice.
This afternoon, running and I enjoyed a lunch date. This evening, baking and I will enjoy creating chocolate pudding with espresso whipped cream. And tonight, I will celebrate three years with someone who whole-heartedly accepts all my other relationships.
Happy 3 years, Allie and Mike! Love Mum and Dad
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