Running

I started running this week. A friend of mine wants me to do a half marathon at the end of July and that got my butt in gear although I’m not sure that I’ll do it. I really like just running by myself and for myself. Doug and I used to run together every once in a while. It was nice to do together but he really didn’t like running much and I really didn’t like having a running partner. I always found myself trying to keep up or do more than I really felt at the time…so he stopped running with me because he didn’t really like it that much (he did a little) and I liked just going at it by myself.

Tonight was my second run for the week. I was just going to do my first route for a week to get used to doing this and give my body some time to adjust. Tonight however, I just kept running. I ran for about an hour, well, I walked as well but I ran for the better part of it. I did over 3 miles. I was going good and felt really great and then towards the time I was thinking of turning back, I saw a dad out with his little boy, teaching his son to ride his bike. I passed them on the trail as they were going the opposite direction I was going…and then the tears just started flowing. Somehow I knew that this would happen. Even if I didn’t see this scene that will never happen for my son. I knew that me getting back out running and doing some hard physical stuff would just release some of the sorrow I carry with me.

It was good.

I have been afraid to run quite honestly because I knew, knew that this would happen and I just really haven’t been wanting to go through it. Pretty much the same reason why I haven’t started counseling. The pain is there. The sorrow is there. And I know I’m shoving it down deep. And I’m okay with that. It’s what I’ve needed to do to survive thus far.

Today though, my body was telling me to just push. Push and go further than you expected. Keep going was all it was saying. Keep going. I cried for a better part of a 1/2 mile with the tears just mixing in with the sweat. I just kept running. Then after the tears slowed a bit and I could see, I stopped and kissed my little boy’s forehead. I told him that would be him and me in a few years.

And that is okay.

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