I spent last week pin-balling between denial, anger and depression on the Kübler-Ross model of the stages of grief. Translation: I was grouchy and teary because I wasn’t ready for Ragnar to be over. (YES, I’m still talking about Ragnar. I’m pretty sure I’ve worked it into every conversation I’ve had in the last 9 days. I don’t see this as a problem.)
We went out of town this past weekend. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to go (I was happy just wallowing in my grief, thankyouverymuch), and I knew it would force me to admit that Ragnar was over and I needed to move on. (stage 5, woohoo for personal growth!)
Enter the Little Cabin in the Woods:
There were beach trips and hikes and one sad attempt at a trail run. I have a billion and twelve ideas of where I want to go in every aspect of my life. Now it’s just a matter of prioritizing and planning and (here’s the kicker) following through. But I’m developing a track record for that last bit, so I’m feeling confident.
The trail run attempt was sad because we lost the trail. Husband is not a runner and even though I promised we could turn around whenever we wanted he refused to even step foot on the 15 mile loop, so we went with the 3 mile loop. It was not very well maintained and we ended up losing the trail in a field about half way along. There were dozens of elk trails and we spent about 30 minutes trying to figure out which was the official path before deciding to turn around. We only had 2/10 of the essential items for getting lost in the woods, so I didn’t want to try that.
Random story not really related to anything: Husband also insists that some other time that we were out at the cabin (some time in the last 6 years) we had a run in with a bear. He says we went for a hike and when we got back to the car it was just coming out of the woods, less than 20 feet from us. He then claims that I walked over to a dumpster (farther from the bear) and closed the lid, all the while scolding the bear for trying to eat trash. While me scolding animals does not sound out of character in the least, I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF THIS HAPPENING WHATSOEVER. Based on his recounting of events I was not traumatized at all. But this is also not the sort of thing that happens to me with such regularity that I would forget it (unlike breakfast). It’s too early to tell, but this story might become our own Great Debate (you know, the one argument that no one actually cares who is right and will last for the entire span of our marriage).