Hello again, my running community. How are we all doing? Hanging in there? Kicking butt and taking names? Carpe diem and stuff? Or, are there any of us just taking things one day at a time? Or, perhaps still working on one step at a time? I hear you. I have days like that, too. Lots of them. If you read my last blog post for TSFM (February 9th), you know that on January 20, 2014 the world lost an incredible kid to Diffuse Intrinsic Pontine Glioma, a rare and incurable brain tumor, thus leaving a void so large and wide in my heart that it seems it can’t be filled. Since that tragic day that I saw Ronnie take his last breath, nothing has felt right and running isn’t fixing it the way that it has fixed so many other challenges that have come my way in the past. But, for Ronnie, I keep running, even though it takes all my strength and effort to get out there and make my Garmin chirp mile after mile.
I’m usually a morning runner. I prefer my world fresh and new. I enjoy beginning a run in absolute silence and finishing with a crescendo of noisy and opinionated birds. I like to imagine that I’m the first one to see the sun peek out over the mountains; perhaps a gift from Ronnie for me to silently appreciate and adore.
Lately, these simple moments of peace aren’t enough to combat my lack of desire to run. While I’m still out there, clocking nearly 50 miles a week, it’s hard, and I am not enjoying myself. I won’t stop, not ever, because I run for Ronnie. I remember his sweet, […]