Life is a three-act play

How do you know when one act ends and another begins?

It was a cold February day, almost 25 years ago.

I drove downtown, like I did every day, to the big glass building that housed the tech consulting company I worked for. I parked in the garage, took the elevator and then an escalator upstairs and badged in at the door, a routine so ingrained I could do it in my sleep.

Everything was quiet, much quieter than usual. Back then, each of us had an office phone at our desk — remember those? — which had a tiny red light that blinked when you had a message.

But most of us rarely, if ever, used them. Why call when you can email? So mostly they sat silent, stoic, untouched.

That morning as I walked through the still-dark office, though, I noticed tiny red lights blinking everywhere. On this phone, and that one, and that one way over there.

When I got to my desk, my phone was blinking too. So I picked up and listened to the voicemail, which told me I had an appointment in about fifteen minutes. It included the room number, and said to bring my laptop.

I arrived at the room to find two of my co-workers, seated on opposite sides of a table. There was an empty chair, which I assumed was meant for me. So I sat down, and immediately I could hear each of them exhale a little, a hint of the bad news they were about to deliver.

As you’ve probably guessed, they told me I was being laid off, along with several dozen of my other co-workers. It was 2002 and the tech bubble was still bursting, and so they didn’t have much choice.

None of this reflected on me, they assured me, but — as you probably know if you’ve been in this situation — it was pretty cold comfort. The meeting was short; I signed a couple of papers and they gave me a severance check, then followed me to my desk where I gathered up the few belongings I’d kept there.

And then, that was it. I was no longer an employee there, I wouldn’t see my friends who worked there anymore, none of it was a part of my life anymore.

I didn’t know it then, but that morning marked a huge turning point. Where one part — one act, if you will — of my life ended and another began.

All the years leading up to that day, everything had been up — I’d been growing up, going to school, going to college, graduating and getting a job. Then that job led to a better job, and the next job led to a better job still. Things kept looking, well, up.

After that, though, my life went sideways. For a while I drifted — well, first I took my severance check and spent it on a trip visiting friends across the country, driving from Atlanta all the way out to California. But eventually, of course, I had to come back.

What was waiting for me was square one — I had no job, not much money, no real discernible reason for getting out of bed in the morning. Life is short, as they say, but the days really are long. How to fill all that suddenly free time?

I was 31 years old and it was tough for me then; I have friends who are in their mid-50s now and having to start over in new jobs, new relationships, new living arrangements. (In fact, I’m one of them, as I was laid off from my old job and — thankfully! — found a new one at the start of this year.)

In When Harry Met Sally, there’s a wonderful line Billy Crystal’s Harry says to Meg Ryan’s Sally at the end of the movie, when at last he realizes he’s head-over-heels in love with her:

“I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

This is just a line from a movie, I know, but when we lose something big in our lives — a job, a partner, anything — we want it back, you know? We want the security back, we want to be back on the path we were on. As soon as possible.

At the time, I didn’t understand that the first act of my life had ended and the second was beginning. I tried to hold on to that first act, I think, maybe a little too tightly. I couldn’t see what was right in front of me.

Now, it’s (almost) a quarter-century later and, at times, I wonder if I’ve come to a similar hinge moment in my life. I’m 55 years old; my oldest is about to graduate from college this spring and my youngest will become a teenager in just a few weeks.

Are there other things I need to be doing? Are there parts of my life I’ve given enough energy to, and are there new directions I should aim for?

These are the thoughts that swirl in the back of my mind when I walk and when I run (which has been a rare thing lately). But still, I lace up and get out there, and try to figure it all out.

How about you? As always, keep in touch and let me know how your running/life is going.

Your friend,

— Terrell

---

Training miles for this week

So how did your 17 miles go last week? (If you’re following the 12-week training plan.) And if you’re following the plan to run a half by the end of the year, how did your 13 miles go?

This week, you’ll notice we add two miles to the 12-week plan and three miles to the 16-week plan:

Here’s how our next week looks for the 12-week plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 17 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 19 — 5 miles/50-55 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 20 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 22 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 23 — 5 miles/40-45 minutes

And for the 16-week plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 17 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 19 — 5 miles/50-55 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 20 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 22 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 23 — off

And for the 10-mile training plan:

• Thursday, Sept. 17 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Saturday, Sept. 19 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Sunday, Sept. 20 — 3 miles/30-35 minutes

• Tuesday, Sept. 22 — 4 miles/40-45 minutes

• Wednesday, Sept. 23 — off

Let me know how it goes, and don’t hesitate to reach out! — Terrell