Breaking Up

Dear _______:
There comes a time in every relationship, when choices have to be made. I think that time is now. I think we should stop seeing each other. It’s not just a matter that you’re not meeting my needs, it’s just that we’ve grown apart.
I mean, when we started seeing each other, back in 1999, I was a completely different person. I was needy. I lacked confidence. I was unathletic. You held out promises, hope even. I took the bait. I committed to you. But nothing changed. It was empty. It wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be.
So I started running outside, in the park, seeing other people. I even made some friends. You didn’t seem to mind. You seemed to know that I would always return when things got too hot or too cold. I’d call on you in the dark. There would be indoor cardio again.
But the hope you offered for me was false hope. You just took and took and took. Whether it was charges for supplements, charges for drinks, charges for group exercise, it was always about you. You were a charge on my credit card every month.
But then I met the new gym. She was beautiful and new of course, but there was more. The people actually knew my name, and I learned theirs. They were happy to see me. They cheered for me--literally cheered when the marathon went right by their building. They stood on the sidewalk and cheered. They cheered for my marathon. They cheered for my increasingly leaner body. They cheered from my first triathlon all the way through my first season. Even the people who were not my trainers cheered for me.
You never cheered for me.
Yet you seemed so cocky. “She hasn’t got a pool,” I heard you say once. So, you knew that I’d come calling those dark mornings to get from you what you thought I could get nowhere else. I avoided you when I could swim anywhere else. But I’d always make the aquatic call eventually. You thought it would always be that way.
Yesterday, however, you decided that the pool is going to be closed every week, exactly when I need it for my mid-week swim. We just can’t go on like this. So, as of now, you are the health club that dare not speak its name. I wish you well, but you will never see me again. Don’t call.
Tomorrow morning, I am joining a master’s swim group. I just don’t need you anymore.
Sincerely,
greyhound