Confidential To Supermodel

Dear Supermodel,

I miss you. 

Training isn't the same without you.  I've muddled through most of the workouts, but the solo 16- and 18-mile trail runs were tough.  You weren't there for me when I saw the snakes.  Two of them.  I miss how you let me scream, jump behind you and push you sacrificially towards danger.

I miss how you hold my hydration belt so I can go to the bathroom... and I miss holding yours.

I miss our conversations that go from light to intense and everywhere in between.  And when we end a long run with scribble marks over our heads and curt goodbyes, one of us always calls the other later that day to share a new recipe, borrow an ingredient, or to see how the other guy is feeling.

I try to meet new girls on the trail.  They're either too gritty or too pretty.  I know you know what I mean.  The gritty girls don't smile at me; it's all business.  They run solo, but I can tell they prefer it that way. 

The pretty girls run in elite packs.  I can smell them coming, all flowery and clean.  They have silky hair, spaghetti-strap cami tops, their boobs don't move, and I bet they shave their legs every day.  They smile and hop off the trail, yielding to me with gorgeous white grins.  I feel their pity.  They know I'm not a gritty girl, but they also know I can't hang with their pretty set.  It's obvious I don't shower before a run, and... the boobs.

I've seen a few trail runners like us -- in between gritty and pretty -- but they're already paired off.  They look at me sympathetically as if to say, Don't worry.  You'll find someone.  Like you.  Like us.

I get that you're tired of running.  I understand the desire to broaden your workout routines and connect with other friends, although it stings a little when I see your new training partner drive by my house with you in the car.  She's friendly, fit, pretty, speaks Portuguese and is good with hair.  I'm sure the Boot Camp you attend with her is very exciting!  I was sorry to hear about her misfortune on the hike the two of you enjoyed... with several other people.  I'm glad she's feeling better, but for the record, you've never had to call Search And Rescue for me.  Eleven rescuers?  Just sayin'.

My first race is this weekend.  It should be our race.  I'll drive to Park City, Saturday morning... alone.  I miss trying to convince you that we need to be there early, and stressing about your inability to get to bed at a reasonable hour.

I'll think of you, Supermodel.  I might have to "love the one I'm with" once in a while, but I'll never stop loving you.

Yours,

Chris