I spent the morning running to the same music I ran to six winters ago when I lived here before and when I was recently single in a new town with only a few friends and long, long nights to myself.  I bought her CD and joined a small, twenty-four hour gym and I ran to the same six songs for months.  I ran late at night with the music loud and the lights turned down.  I ran farther than I knew I could and somewhere along the way, after I knew all of the words by heart and after I had burned through two pairs of shoes, I left the gym and I learned to walk, slow and sure, again.

I ran this morning for the first time this winter.  I ran while the snow came and the lake disappeared into the white blur moving in on this small town that I live in once again and I couldn't help but break into that old, sassy stride that saw me through a hard beginning.  There were differences, though.  I am stronger now.  I have learned to listen to my body.  I have learned to push against a man without leaving him.

And I have met love a thousand ways since then.  This is the most significant.