It is my birthday soon

But first let me interject that I am reading "Fugitive Pieces".  Yes: nothing like a searing tome of grief, memory and loss to kick off the holidays.
This past weekend, after Michael and I had a rather brilliant row on day two or three of living together he said that with me there is always something.  We resolve one thing, but something else is always looming.  It's true.  We've never been calm and complacent within our relationship and this is not for his lack of trying.
I've said it before: it's tiring being me.  I don't know why I fight and fret and lament everything all the time.
My response to him was that he's stuck through it for over a decade, and so why?  It just seems stupid and then he agreed that he was, quite likely, stupid.
I received my first Christmas card this year.  Not surprisingly it was from someone in the medical profession because I do tend to spend a lot of time with those types these days.  Yes, my phsyio's office sent me a card and she also even called me today to follow up on my progress.
One of the last times I saw her I stupidly asked "What are we shooting for here?  Pain free running?" to which she looked at me somewhat strangely and confirmed that yes, pain free running was the name of the game.
I've been working hard at it.  Doing exercises at work, not running back to back days, not increasing by (much more ) than 10% a week.  I could try harder: the exercises are time consuming and I'm not always as diligent as I should be.  Being back at my place with a gym (and living in a building resplendent with octogenarians who don't ever use the gym) has been a huge help.
So.  It's my birthday on Friday.  I'm going for dinner with some friends and then we're going to see my cousin's band play at the Cellar.  I can't remember the last time I was in a night club, but I really can't think of a better way to ring in my 36th year than by being perceived as a cougar by my cousin's band mates who are in their early twenties.
Year 35 was, again, cleaning up rather fantastic messes that I made.  I mean, you do kind of have to hand it to me in a way: when I screw up, I do so quite spectacularly.  Again: tiring.
This year I am going to shoot for pain free running, and a normal, stable and happy relationship.
That's so 101, right?