(And the strange desire to eat everything in 

sight, hide in your room, and watch old Gidget  

movies with friends from high school.)

         Now comes that unavoidable time when you say to anyone who will listen: What the heck am I doing,  anyway? If it’s a person you love, first you hate only their foulest inadequacies, then you start hating their good points as well. If it’s running you love, you start to hate hills, sidewalks, and bad weather, and soon anything that slightly resembles a bump, concrete, or  a small breeze. 

 I can’t believe I ever said I felt this way, I must have been dreaming!

Wait, this is no dream, this is a film noir movie, and

  one of those really dark one’s, too.  I mean, this is love?  This is what 

they tell you about when you’re 11 and naive? Or 32 and more naive?