-How it came to this-
My name is Sean Hamlin, age 44. My wife Bree and I have been married for almost 20 years. Sometimes, people wonder how we have stayed together as a couple for so long. My conclusion? During almost 20 years of marriage, objectively we've spent only around 7 years of time actually together. We both have cultivated vibrant independent business careers, and rarely see each other outside of weekends, holidays and the occasional weekday where we manage to catch each other at home. Classic workaholics, who put our relationships on hold while we chase sales targets, operating metrics, whatever the challenge dujour is for us at the moment.
The signs have been there for some time. We've always lived on the east coast of the USA. Bree was offered the job of a lifetime 5 years ago - of course, on the West coast. Only problem is, my job was based in the east, along with most of my sales territory. She asked if I would relocate with her. Short answer - no - my career was too important to me, I wasn't moving away from the power centers of HQ or my established base of customers. To her credit, Bree initially declined the job, solely on the requirement to work from the office 5 days a week. Her prospective employer didn't take no for an answer, and countered with a revised job offer allowing her to live wherever she liked, as long as she was willing to commute into the office at least 2 weeks out of the month. Ultimately, she accepted. We were used to frequent travel and time apart anyway, this was really not intended to be too significant of a change.
Or so I thought. Realistically, after 6 months the 2 onsite weeks bled into 3 and sometimes 4. Irrespective of the occasional week home was my travel - which while not as intense as hers, always seemed to concentrate on the weeks where she could work from home at her discretion. If I wasn't going to be around, there wasn't really any point in hanging around at home. She might as well be in the office anyway, it was her entire world.
Obviously, our love life and intimacy suffered, really only seeing each other on alternating weekends. I admit, I had some occasional indiscretions of my own during this time, I guess I had to in order to keep my sanity. Bree never could have known. Nothing that would have ever qualified as a true affair, more like some glorified one night stands. Always opportunistic and meaningless. Fact is, I loved Bree. I don't know why I didn't stand up and fight harder for our marriage before it was too late. Given the opportunity, I would have spent the night with her over pretty much anyone. I felt my share of the blame here.
The final sign should have been the most auspicious, and perhaps the one I could have exercised the most control over. Neither one of us was 25 anymore. Bree maintained a "routine". I guess it's easier when you are traveling back and forth to the same places, at the same times, over and over again. Waking up at 5AM to hit the gym or the jogging trails was second nature to her. Despite the approach of middle age, she looked about as attractive as the day I married her. Without children, Bree's stomach remained toned and breasts perky, never suffering the ravages of pregnancy. She had the classic and distinguished signs of aging, specifically gray hairs (which she treated) and fine lines and wrinkles starting in places where you might expect them to be. But for a woman of 44 herself, she still looked darn near amazing.
Unfortunately, I fell into the life of an executive bachelor most of the time. I wasn't getting up and working out at 5AM - actually, I never set foot in the gym at all. My domain was entertaining clients and executive team members over lunches and late night dinners, complete with wine, dessert and whatever got put in front of me. I wasn't exactly a glutton, but maintaining physical fitness wasn't actually any priority. I was eating junk and meals for one most of the nights when I wasn't traveling or working myself. Bree didn't seem to mind my appearance, at least on the surface, but the fact she was roughly the size she was when she married me, and I was now 40 lbs heavier had to be hurting my case.
My motivation was to somehow fight to reclaim my marriage. At least to me, it was worth saving. After 20 years, I knew damn well once her mind was made up it wouldn't be changed easily. It seemed clear to me she had finally decided it was high time to move lock stock and barrel to the west coast, her whole world was there now and it only seemed like a logical play to quit shuttling back and forth. I could only imagine Bree finally met someone who made the decision obvious, not like it couldn't have been obvious before.
-Preparing to Fight-
Recognizing the deck was stacked against me, I decided that tactically I needed to take what she was offering. I decided to not contest the separation. Two days after she left, I called and told her to take the time apart that she needed and I would do the same. Stay on the west coast for a while. I would sell our home, move into an apartment of my own, and focus on self improvement. I knew divorce wasn't a quick process, even without children it would take 6 months or more due to our asset profiles and everything else. I simply asked Bree for the opportunity to consider a reconciliation one final time before any divorce was filed, that I still was in love with her, and hopefully our time apart would in some way allow us to recognize we still had feelings for each other that would eventually preclude an official divorce. As the consummate executive she was, she recognized I was trying to make a big step in her direction, and readily accepted to follow this path with me.
If there is ever a vision of a midlife crisis, I was about to become it. I knew the odds of reclaiming my marriage weren't too good. Obviously, I was in competition with someone, or about to be. I figured either I improve myself and use this as my last, best effort to reclaim my wife...or a springboard into what I have only heard is a spectacularly complicated middle aged dating scene. Either way, I needed all the help I could get.
It was shock therapy. I made a point to start exercising daily, specifically running as I didn't really have time for anything else. The first mile I ran ended with me leaning against a fence, seeing stars and vomiting. It actually didn't deter me like you think it would. My first 4 weeks were incredibly difficult. I was so sore I could barely get out of bed in the morning. By the 5th week, I was up to 2 miles and starting to feel better. By the 8th week, I was up to 3. After 12 weeks, I could run as far as 5 miles at a time without stopping. I was already down 15 lbs, sleeping like a log all night long, and feeling better about myself for the first time.
I needed to meet some new people outside of work. I wasn't ready for the dating scene, and in some way I was hoping I wouldn't have to be. In my head, I was still a married man and despite whatever indiscretions Bree was busy getting into living apart from me, I still felt in my heart that we could reconcile, somehow. I decided to register for a 5K race, clearly not to be competitive but in hopes I could meet some new people that I could somehow connect with on my midlife crisis journey.
My first race was on a Saturday morning in early October. It was raining, and miserable. I managed to finish, and in the middle of the pack too. Gosh did I feel out of place though. The participants ranged from the weekend warrior triathlete all the way to the recovering couch potatoes like me. I decided to register for another event 2 weeks later, clear on the other side of town. To my surprise, it was mostly the same crowd of people, in fact I recognized several of the same faces from the race 2 weeks prior. Maybe it was going to be easier to strike up some new friendships from this group than I thought? I ran the second race, and improved my time by :30 seconds from 2 weeks prior.
At the start and finish line, I noticed a woman cross about 15 seconds behind me. She was noticeably older than me in appearance, but still very attractive for her age. Silver streaked hair, but long enough for a ponytail. Flat, toned stomach just like a runner should have, but with a svelte figure and gorgeously sculpted legs. She looked to be about 50 years old, but I sort of wondered if maybe she was older than that and just taking really good care of herself. I don't exactly know what drew me to notice her, but in the crush of spectators I lost her in the crowd. I managed to collect a bottle of water and a banana, but never saw her again.
Establishing my fitness routine was hard. Maintaining it was proving to be pretty easy, but I was hitting a plateau of sorts. I wasn't really able to run any further than 5 miles and I definitely wasn't fast enough to win any of these races. And as November approaches, the days are getting shorter and the weather a lot more fickle for outside activities. I recognized just maintaining my habits was going to be challenging, at least for a while.
I was determined to keep going, and registered myself for my 3rd race in early November. Persons of my age, growing up in the eastern USA are all too familiar with the inspiration for the classic rock ballad "November Rain". Unfortunately, the weapons and flowers crew forgot to inform the race organizers of what the weather was supposed to be. Today was sunny, and unseasonably hot. Usually these races are in the morning, but today was kicking off at high noon. This was going to be my hottest event yet, and I arguably wasn't ready.
The first mile was in the shade, and I was basically in line with my time from the last race. In the second mile, we broke into full sun and I started slowing down. I remember seeing the sign for mile marker 3 and the finish line somewhere in the distance. I don't remember anything at all after that.
I woke up a few hours later in a hospital bed, hooked up to various monitors and with an IV stuck into my hand. I wasn't feeling any too well. In a state of delirium I looked around, and sitting next to me was the attractive older woman I recognized from the finish line of the second race. I immediately closed my eyes and assumed I was hallucinating. When I reopened them, she was still there.
"You gave us quite a scare today, mister."
"Uh, who are you?"
"My name is Laura Champion. You collapsed in front of me during the race. I am a trained nurse and stopped to help."
"Thank you, Laura. I hope you went back and finished the race."
"Not this time, Sean. You'll have to make this one up to me another time."
