Because I Can

I’ve placed a treadmill right smack dab in the middle of my living room.

If you ask why, I will answer with a smug, cat-that-ate-the-canary smile, because I can.

As more than half of you know, there is nothing fun about divorce. My divorce would be considered one of the “nice” ones – most of the drama was tucked away inside our own hearts, away from the children, the neighbors, even one another. We were married 21 years, together a quarter century; and yet, when the time came to call it quits, I rarely saw his pain. He rarely saw mine.

Now, keep in mind, that’s not a “never,” it’s a “rarely.” And it doesn’t mean we were always well behaved, we weren’t. Who knows, there may be ugliness still hiding along the path of our future, waiting to jump out the moment we least expect it. However, as divorces go, ours looks more like a crushing, colorless ache than a bloody, lights-and-sirens war zone. I am forever thankful for that.

Even so, it has not been fun.

However… there are moments of unbridled, sinful, self-satisfaction along this journey that I am hard-pressed to contain. They stem from the fact that I stood, first in line, for what I feared might be the “Watch Polly Crash and Burn” show. I am pleased to report that the previously expected show has been pre-empted by the “Watch Polly Doin’ Just Fine” show, brought to you by the award-winning production team of God’s Grace, Life’s Blessings, Family/Friends’ Love, and Elbow Grease.

My moments of self-satisfaction are not earth-shattering events; rather, most are the everyday occurrences of normal, grown adults. Paying my bills each month. Fixing or improving something around my house. Caring for my lawn. Selfishly adoring my closets and drawers that are no longer shared spaces. (Okay, that one might not be completely normal.) 

And yes, plunking a treadmill, that no-way-to-make-it-pretty monstrosity, right in the middle of my living room. Because I’ve no one to check with, worry about, accommodate, or retreat for. In short, because I can.

I won’t keep it there forever; my interior decorator’s heart won’t be able to take it forever. The reason it’s constructive for now is that I’m training for a half marathon, and 13 miles is a long way to walk/run while looking out the window at an empty street. I’ve never even made it that far yet, but when I do, it will be a whole lot less painful with hours of DVR’d programming to watch along the way.

When I do move the treadmill to a more traditional location, it will be for the same reason I put it in the living room. Not because someone else thinks I should. (Even my kids know their vote counts in these matters right after they pony up to chip in on the mortgage.) Not even because I think someone else might think I should. I’ll move it somewhere else, when I’m ready to do so, for the same reason I moved it to the living room. Because I can.

It’s the one true sunny side of divorce.

There’s only one person who might come close to being the boss around here, but so far, he seems pretty happy with the treadmill’s new location…