Life after tragedy seems to be all about trying to function through the day or even the moment. Everything at this point in my life becomes a test of endurance to see if I can make it to the other side of the day, so with that in mind, I need a lot of little motivations to keep moving. There is very little we have control over or at least feel like we have control over, so that's why I have gravitated towards running.
Running because you want to is such a foreign concept to some people. I don't know how many times I've heard people balk and say that the only way they would run is if zombies were chasing them. Okay, so I used to be that person who turned her nose down to such a form of self-torture. Running seemed about as much fun as doing sit-ups or washing dishes. I just wasn't down with it. Until I was.
One day, a few years ago, walking became my exercise of choice because of pesky high cholesterol, a fun side effect of growing older. The only way I could effectively combat it was to literally work it out of my system. Walking was free and easy when one had small children. All I had to do was pack up my kid in a stroller and go. Those walks turned in to, "Can I jog to that mailbox?" Then, "How about that stop sign?" I started challenging myself in little ways until I was jogging up to three miles. For reasons involving weird knee popping issues which I won't go into, after a while I stopped but always with the intention that I would find a way to start again. I won't lie. A few years went by with my excuses, and I tried other forms of exercise, but nothing ever equated the rush of running.
Running became a daily challenge to see just how much further I could go. The best part was that I was constantly surprising myself. Being able to run long distances made me stronger and proud of what I could accomplish. On my worst days, the best thing about running was that I could only really think about making it to my next marker. Then some days, when I would reach that elusive runner's high, I could go forever and had energy like no other for hours afterwards. That is what hooked me and kept me coming back for more. Since my daughter passed away, I have done quite a bit of research of how to finally get back into running without injuring myself. One quote I found about proper running form was by Chris McDougal in a Men's Health article: "Imagine your kid is running into the street, and you have to sprint after her in bare feet. You'd automatically lock into perfect form--you'd be up on your forefeet, with your back erect, head steady, arms high, elbows driving, and feet touching down quickly on the forefoot and kicking back toward your butt."
This tendency to "lock into perfect form" when my child is in danger is what intrigued me. Of course, when I started practicing that technique, I thought of Emilie. During her illness when she started losing her balance, I was on edge, ready to sprint in her direction at the slightest wobble. Towards the end of her life, she depended upon us for everything that she could not physically do for herself, so of course she was the one I pictured running into traffic, needing me to save her. As you can imagine, that made for a pretty emotional first run. Even though I probably cried through most of it, I also felt the best I had felt physically in years which made me pumped and ready to run again. Eventually my runs turned into my time with Emilie because I see her in my mind, cheering me on, and I run to her.
Since I started back in May, I have hit my three mile mark, and I have a new goal of raising money for St. Jude's 5K in December. What better way to commemorate my daughter? One day I want to be the eighty nine year old woman still running and keeping up with the youngsters. I want to make it to the other side of my life, and for me, running becomes a vital part of that process because it softens the hardness of frustration and loss. Running loosens me physically, which loosens me mentally, and gives me that boost I need to see that I really can make it through another day.
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