In late June, a rug was pulled from beneath my feet, and my 14 year career came to an abrupt point of change. Like so many others in this stumbling economy, I was looking for work. Not an easy prospect.
In these situations, one can tumble headfirst and go splat, or one can be the proverbial cat, and land on one's feet. I suppose ultimately the choice is up to each of us. I'm not claiming any special powers or dexterity, just a doggedness. Can I claim that this attitude was developed over 30+ years of running, or is it a chicken-and-egg problem ... did my determination make me become and sustain myself as a runner? It's likely I'll never really know.
The deepest truth is that I have a supportive and helpful network of friends and colleagues who jumped into action at my call for assistance. If I was trying to be the cat - land on my feet - then I was a cat with many helping hands on my way down to the ground.
Those who helped - and I mean helped in so many different ways, from job leads to compassionate words and everything in between - have my eternal gratitude.
The end result? Well, I'll just say that I'm in a new city in a new time zone, and this morning I was running in the dark frosty pre-dawn, considering how lucky I am. New job (best one I've ever had, and for the best boss I've ever had), new house, new friends, new start, loving wife, great sons. I think it's safe to say I've landed on my feet.
Now I just need my feet to keep me running along. I've ambled past my 50th birthday, and now take aim at a new age group. Hmm, better get in shape again.
I will do my best to get back to posting more regularly. Have a 16.7 mile trail race coming up in just over a week, that should provide some grist for the mill. Good running to all.