One morning in early June, I went for a run through Golden Gate Park. The air was crisp and cool and the leaves on the trees were the color of a freshly poured glass of Chartreuse. Along the side of the trails, nasturtiums burst into bloom like votive candles at a Tibetan temple. I was soaking all this in when SLAM! I found myself face to face with dirt. Fine gravel imbedded into my knees and palms. I looked over my shoulder and couldn't figure out what had happened, what had tripped me. I pulled myself up, brushed off the dirt and gravel. I felt a little shaken up. I started running again, slowly at first. Blood trickled down my left leg and my hands stung.
Life's like that sometimes, isn't it? Sometimes we stumble. Sometimes we lose a little skin. Sometimes we bleed. Something inside me compelled me to finish my run. You can do this, Brett. I knew I'd make it. I wanted to. I had to.
I ran every day after N and I had The Talk. It kept me sane. I ran and ran and didn't stop running until 6 weeks later I found myself crossing the finish line of the San Francisco half marathon, 10 minutes faster than my most optimistic goal, my fists pumping in the air. That day that I fell down, just 1 week after The Talk, was a snap shot of how I've pulled myself through this challenging time in my life. I could've just lain there on the trail and felt sorry for myself. I could've even sobbed. Why did this happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? How could I have not seen whatever it was that tripped me? How could I have prevented this from happening? Believe me, all those thoughts flashed across my mind. But, in that moment on that trail, I chose not to indulge them. I got up and finished what I had set out to do.
My big news today is that this week — after 4 months of deliberating, hand wringing, soul searching, and on occasion bleeding — I gave word to my architects and contractors to resume work on my restaurant in Noe Valley! Stay tuned for details.