Valentine

On Valentine's Day, I find thoughts of love still swirling about my head. I'm remembering great love that has danced through my life. I'm remembering the pain of heartbreak. And I'm remembering - with an intense sense of gratitude - the abundance of love in my present life.

It isn't love of romantic notions. There are no hearts and flowers. And yet, there is more love, greater love, than has ever been part of my life when I've been distracted by romance.

Beyond grateful, that's me. For the love of family and friends. For my health, my sense of joy. For Irish cheese and cold water. For air and wonder and coffee and music and dance.

For life.

It wasn't always this way. When I was married, Valentine's Day came and went like any other day, and after we split up (which happened for me on Valentine's Day, oddly enough) it was even worse. The constant reminders of happy couples made me want to poke myself in the eye. Repeatedly. With a dirty red-hot poker.

But that was 2006. As the years passed, a new Maggie began to emerge. So distinctly different from any of the other versions, because this one was truly content with being alone. Oh, no ... scratch that. Not alone; rather, willing to live without romantic entanglements in order to establish herself. And holy shit, have I ever done that.

I have (as the graphic above attests) followed my heart wherever it's been willing to take me. Most of the time, it begs me to quicken its cadence, so I take to the gym or the pool or the trail. I have literally transformed my heart (and my body) through taking care of it. I am more youthful now than I was seven years ago, at almost-40. Today, I'm careening toward 50 with a younger attitude than ever, because I have followed my heart.

I've followed it to a new job. I've followed it to a new (temporary) home with my sister, Pat. I've followed it toward new friendships that feel like family.

And so, love. In my single-ness, I'm better able to accept love, it seems. But I don't think it's my single-ness that gets the credit. No, I think my single-ness has allowed me to know, accept and fall madly in love with myself, and that has made me better able to love others.

I think that's a lovely thing.

Commitment

That's a $5 word for ya - commitment. It's one of my favorite words.

In life, each day, we have lots of opportunities to commit. There are oodles of decisions we make, day in, day out ... and each requires some level of commitment.

This week, for example, I have made the following commitments:

• That stop light at the corner of 34 and Orchard? The light turned yellow as I approached, but I'd already committed to going through. I did not run the red, but it was leaning toward orange by the time I crossed. If I'd slammed on the brakes this morning, there's a better-than-even chance I would have slid through on a thin veil of ice. I made the right commitment.
• Lunch? Lots of options. I was stuck between the pear and brie salad, and the caprese panini. In order to help the line move along, I committed to the panini. (And I'm damn glad I did, to tell you the truth!)
• Wednesday night at the gym, I had seven miles on my training plan. It was speedwork, which meant I was to do the following: 
• Jog slowly for a one-mile warm-up.
• Jog a little faster for a half mile.
• Run at a specific pace for one mile.
• Jog for a half mile.
• Run at the previous specific pace for one mile.
• Jog for a half mile.
• Run at the previous specific pace for one mile.
• Jog for a half mile.
• Jog slowly for one mile. 
• I started out feeling strong, so I ran my run/walk intervals (which I call "race-day practice") for the first six miles. And that's when I began to waver. "Self," I said, "you can just walk the last mile; after all, you've already done more at the specific pace than the plan required." But I wasn't buying it. Why? Because I'd committed to the run.

Commitment. It matters. Whatever you do, do it because you are committed to it. In relationships, be committed to the other person. (This works whether it's a romantic relationship or not; be committed to all those who matter to you - friends, spouses, co-workers, children, pets, etc. They all deserve commitment.) If you feel strongly about taking care of yourself (and I hope you do), commit to it. Want to be really good at your job? Start with commitment.

I can't recall of a single time excellence was achieved through half-assed commitment, can you?

They don't make 'em like they used to

I hear there's a football game happening this weekend.

At the risk of sounding like an elderly woman (oh, shut up), times sure have changed. Back in '85, I knew who all these guys were. That may not sound like a big deal, but here's the gig: I never watched a game. The team was full of characters, guys who just generally wanted to have a good time, and weren't afraid to look like total dweebs to raise a little money for charity. For real - 98 percent of these guys are completely unnatural on camera, and they don't care; they're having fun.

Can you imagine a team doing this today? I sure can't. Maybe that's because I don't know any of the players on any team. (really; up until last year I thought the Bears quarterback was Jake Utler) but isn't that part of the problem? When players are known to non-fans these days, it's more often because they've done something criminal or otherwise stupid. So go ahead. Eat some wings, watch Beyonce entertain her damn self over halftime, and catch some sweet sweet commercials. I'll be longing for the days of Sweetness and Speedy Willie; not sure if you know this, but he's world class.