As I continue on with the sequel to my first Solo in the City blog, it seems that my return to the world of blogging has been met with approval. Thank you to all of you who sent me friendly hellos and nice comments last week. And so I go on to blog another day...
THE TOP 10 THINGS I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT LIFE SINCE THE HALF IRONMAN: PART DEUX
7. "...I believe that you measure yourself by the people that measure themselves by you." I am an incredibly blessed person. Within a few miles of my little apartment in Rosslyn, VA, live some of my closest friends from childhood, college, law school, and my early working years. Having inherited the Irish gift of the gab and general social nature of the Celtic people, I have also been fortunate enough to meet (often in some rather unusual ways) wonderful people since I moved to DC in December 2005, who have become wonderful friends as well. 
There's Christina, one of my best girlfriends, whom I ran into in the Metro one day this winter on the way home from work. Scott, my connection to all things artistic in DC, who saved me from getting lost when I first joined a new running group last fall for a 23-mile long run. Ed, whose Italian, winemaking father I had the pleasure of meeting at the very same bar in which Ed and I first shared a beer while stranded during one of this winter's many snowstorms. Emma, who is from Ireland and has lived in my building for a year but whom I met running on the track in Georgetown. Jeff, the successful architect who confided in me about his divorce and a recent sad break-up the first day we met at my apartment's rooftop pool. RP, with whom, in the course of only a month or so I feel more comfortable with than almost anyone else I have ever known. Lori, my funky friend from Treasury who commiserated with me during long hours in the office in the first days of TARP. 
And the list could go on and on.
When I left big law firm life, went through a divorce, and moved to a small apartment in a very expensive city to work for the government, my life - in the eyes of many - became less "rich." No longer living in a big house with a pool, taking annual vacations to places like Italy and Hawaii, and getting Christmas gifts such as a car or expensive jewelry, I, too, wondered at first what my life had become. My first months in my tiny, cramped apartment in Adams Morgan were very dark. In Dallas, a city known for its materialism (the popular 80s TV show was not complete fiction), I had become someone who had started measuring her life by where I worked, where I traveled, what car I drove, and what brand of jeans I wore. I didn't like that person, but leaving her behind when I moved here was not easy. It took me a few years to say goodbye to that old, toxic friend. And yet here I sit today, with a small bank account but feeling like the richest person in the world because this afternoon I am meeting a friend from work for lunch in Chinatown. And tomorrow I am going for a long run and to a swimming party with my running group. Then I am watching the World Cup with a group of friends at a local soccer bar. And then I am going with friends to the Sting concert. And on Monday night I am meeting friends to watch Goldfinger outside on the Mall. 
What I have learned, is that in the end, I will measure my life by the number of lives I have touched in a positive way. By the number of people who consider me a friend and who believe that their lives were more rich by having known me. Not by my stock portfolio. Or the car in my garage. Or even having a garage (or a car), for that matter. In the movie The Bucket List, Morgan Freeman's character, who is told he has one year to live, says it well: "It's difficult to understand the sum of a person's life. Some people will tell you it's measured by the ones left behind. Some believe it can be measured in faith. Some say by love. Other folks say life has no meaning at all. Me, I believe that you measure yourself by the people that measure themselves by you."
Until next time...
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