Darkness was broken for a short time as I stepped onto
the porch. A tiny sliver of moon sat in contrast on the horizon, slowly waiting
for its climb into the sky. I overslept starting almost 30 minutes later than
normal. My body needed to run. Music pumped through my buds, and I began the
quiet shuffle. Seemingly full of lead my legs were tired and heavy, taking time
to warm up. The tiniest pricks of light peeked through the black curtain as I immersed
myself in the run. The first half mile was completed before I had to cautiously
pick my way through road construction. Working to find my balance I thought of the
hundreds of times I picked through road construction during a run. I reflected
on how much has changed since I beginning my distance running journey.
My steps began to sing as they find their pace. Smiling
quietly to myself I realized I have laced up my shoes for ten years. Settling
into a rhythm I thought of the simple training I started and then transitioned when
my sister and I decided to race the Princess Half Marathon together at Disney
World. I went from a sprinter to a distance runner with a goal. In the
beginning I hammered out hundreds of miles on a dreadmill. Now I have coursed
thousands of road miles domestically and abroad. The one constant in my decade
of running is everything changes. On my streets I see and feel the changes of
life.
When I began this journey, I had little boys and now I
have men. I chose early morning runs to ensure I was finished and ready before
they got out of bed. They have seen my discipline, watched me succeed and watched
me fail forward. They understood my dedication and chose to travel and cheer me
on during race weekends. Our relationship has changed and evolved as they have
grown. To match the growth our family choices and outings have changed. We have
gone from naps and Phineas and Ferb, to new traditions like attending the
Rockies Star Wars night and hiking Manitou Incline. At times I miss my little
boys but am so thankful for the men we have raised. They have hearts of gold
and an unwavering sense of family. Every season is peppered with family
traditions we all look forward to. They were raised knowing we do things as a
family. Our schedules have changed to match their busy lives, finding it
infinitely important to meet them where they are and not try to force them into
our schedule.
As I tip toe through more construction, I think about how
my town has changed. Roads have been added while others were closed off. Entire
residential blocks have been hazed for additional university buildings. Businesses
have opened and closed, houses changed hands and schools were leveled and new
ones built. Change is necessary for growth, inevitable and easier if embraced.
Starting to feel more of a rhythm, I dance up the
first big hill thinking how the last few years have been fraught with change. Stress
has been a constant companion. In a year and a half, I lost my brother, I lost
my dad and my mom moved across the country. The last seven months I have been
trying to balance losing my dad, doing my best to help my mom through her
grieving process and help with the thousands of necessary decisions sudden
death brings, all while trying to clean and sort through decades of stuff to create
a livable, safe space for her. In that time, I was yelled at, screamed at,
accused of things that were untrue, all a result of other people trying to deal
with change, grief, guilt.
In the last several weeks change hit full force as my
mom moved to Pennsylvania with my sister. Like my dad’s passing this came as a
surprise, and I was once again trying to catch up with my emotions and the
things that needed to be done. In a few short weeks I helped clean, pack and move as my parent’s
house went from packed full, to near empty. Walking through with the auctioneer
my heart ached at the change, finding things my dad had written, seeing his
handwriting with a list of things he meant to complete.
I realized as the stress level began to drop off, I
had created a wall preventing myself from breaking down. I needed to get
through everything first. As I stood in a garage that was my dad’s escape, I
realized one of the most difficult changes is those in our lives will not be
there forever. There are no second chances. Wiping tears away, I vowed that
when everything was finished, I could cry. I could grieve not only the loss of
my dad but grieve all the things that have happened in the last seven months; the
moments of exhaustion, heartbreak, sadness, false accusations, lies, loss, being
overwhelmed, heart wrenching change. I will grieve it all.
As my mind wound its way through the heaviness of my
heart, I continued kissing the pavement with my shoes on a favorite route. I
was thankful for the stability of running, the familiarity of my town, knowing
the turns, the cars I might see, the buildings. Thankful that I make the choice
to be up and running. Thinking about change and the fragile moments of life
made me once again grasp the idea that we have one opportunity at life. Recognizing
the finality of everything and knowing how this will end I worked to create the
life I want. Our little family is solid. We have our ups and downs, but we work
through. Our adult children spend time with us, and we adjust schedules so we
can spend time with them. I work a challenging job I love, doing what I am
called to do. Many years I worked ungodly hours, 20-hour days for weeks on end
for a paycheck. Making the change to write required focus and belief. My career
choice has garnered disdain, flippant comments, and the belief that I really
don’t work. What I realized, though, was it didn’t matter. Our life is better
balanced, we are happier, stronger, and healthier as a family because I shifted to a different career.
My body was adjusting to the run, hitting the
comfortable middle miles. It felt great to stretch my legs and watch the sky. Most
mornings I choose to pull myself out of bed and run. I can’t choose what the
morning will hold, what the weather will be or how my run will feel. In life we
can’t always choose our circumstances, but we can choose how we respond to the circumstances.
We can choose the people we allow into our inner circle, choose how we greet
the day, choose to live life and not simply exist. I have wanted more, just
existing through the daily grind was not enough. In striving to experience a
full and wonderful life I have chosen to focus on the positive and to surround
myself with like-minded people. I limit time with negative people who wallow in
mediocrity, content to stay stuck and complain. I want people who challenge me
to be the best version of myself. Those who are there in an instant when things
aren’t going well, there to celebrate the good times, those who make me laugh,
cry and everything in between. We have found those wonderful people. We have
created a life where we surround ourselves with those who see the positive and
who live out loud.
As I continued to dance in the darkness with the moon
and stars, I thought about the time I have left. Tomorrow is not promised, the
next minute is not even promised. Life can change in a split second. When it is
my turn to leave this world, I want to exit knowing I was better today than
yesterday. I want to have lived, experienced, tried and made a positive impact
on the lives I touched. I want to have loved deeply and eeked out every single
moment of goodness.
Racing down the final hill of my 8 miles I breathe
deep. Clicking off my music I smile at the moon realizing it is in a perpetual
state of change. I am thankful for the miles and thankful for the opportunity
to let my mind meander through the knots in my heart and soul. Change is
necessary and welcome. I am imperfect and hope with each passing day, I will
embrace change and grow to be a better person. Run happy.
