Yes, I know. Quitters never win and winners never quit. As the descendant of generations of non-quitters (see: my mom, my dad, and both sets of grandparents, who all struggled and thrived in the face of adversity I can't even imagine), and the product of many hard-driving coaches like Loranzo "Run 'till you hurl" Alexander, it is not my nature to throw in the proverbial towel.
Things I did not quit even though I really wanted to: high school, college, my horrible dissertation, several horrible jobs, Peace Corps, a half marathon with heat stroke, and a full marathon with a busted knee. Usually it was a good choice. Not always.
But here I am, quitting the 52 dates challenge. With just 10 more to go! What??!?!! I'm sorry, readers. I know I'm letting many of you down, but I've been absolutely clobbered by my quest for love. I really doubt my own judgment these days (who's good? who's for real? who's not?). And honestly, I just want to roam right now. "A restless spirit," someone called me today, and it's the truth.
I'm not giving up on love. If someone fabulous appears, fantastic-- I'll be delighted to meet him. Until then, I think I'll just be living my life (in New Orleans, this month).
