Running Toward Myself

Saying Good-Bye...For Now

My biggest fan in anything I ever did.....My Hero...My father.

I'm sure that it's been apparent over the past few months that some major things have been going on in my life. Probably anyone who actually reads this blog knows that the biggest of those things was my father's diagnosis with stage 4 colon cancer back in late September, his brief battle with this terrible, awful, horrid disease, and his passing on November 28th. My dad was only 68 years old...so very young by anyone's standards today. I never once...not once...thought that I'd be here writing about my father's death in 10 years let alone today. Life deals us blows....we all know that...but until one of those major shots is dealt to you it's simply conjecture. Once you feel the pain, the totally incapacitating shock of the loss of a parent, that's when those blows move from conjecture to reality.

I essentially lived with or very near my parents all of my life up until the last 3 years. I took so many of those years for granted. Proximity breeds complacency, and I never realized that until I moved to Georgia. I was utterly complacent where my relationship with my father was concerned. He was always there, and I took that for granted. Back in high school and college when I played basketball, he was at my games as often as he could be considering he was an over-the-road truck driver and gone so often. As I grew older, lost my mind, and became a runner, he made up for so many of those missed games and events during my childhood and came to my biggest races....my first marathon and my PR race. During my first marathon I didn't even see my parents the entire weekend except at mile 23 where all of a sudden there he was, running alongside me with a bottle of water, in a crazy-looking hat, yelling, "Me and your mom are so proud of you girl!" That brief exchange is, hands down, the only reason I didn't stop and walk the last few miles. Because my Dad was proud of me. And he drove 8 hours to prove it to me.

Then, a few years later, he showed up at the finish line of the Cincinnati Flying Pig just after I'd missed my goal of sub-4 hours but set a new PR. It had been a torrential downpour all day, and again I hadn't seen my parents the entire weekend. And they didn't even get a glimpse of me during the race after they'd driven several hours to be there. I have no clue how, but my Dad somehow found me in the insanity and jumble that is the end of a huge race, just to tell me how proud he was of me even though they missed me during the race. "Girl, I couldn't even hardly drive that course yesterday without taking a break for a nap." That's my Dad. That always was. And it always will be.

For the past few months, since learning of my father's illness, I've been struggling with running. There have been weeks I've run a lot, just trying to deal with the stress of the 16 hours of driving each weekend, the being so far from him during his time of need, and the ache to be with my family. But, there have been weeks that I haven't run hardly at all. Even a week that I did not run a mile...the first time in 4 years that my log book has taken a goose egg. There have been many tear-filled miles. Even more fast miles as I tried to take out my anger on the road. There have even been walking miles because I was totally and utterly exhausted both physically and emotionally.

Right, now, I can't seem to find my equilibrium. Running has always been that for me, but when looking ahead to next year and trying to map out some sort of plan, I'm at a loss. I have no desire to get with a plan, to figure out a goal.  Heck, I can't even bring myself to run my regular 3-mile route through my hometown because it's too painful when I approach the trailer court (my father's pride and joy) and he's not there to shout at me, "Why are you wasting all that energy running when you can be helping me work?" It literally wounds me to the core to not hear this anymore.....

So, for now, I'm going to take a hiatus with this running blog because I'm mostly a pretty private person and prefer not to write about things that hurt too much. I think it might just be better to take a step back from running for a while, really examine where I want to go from here, and then rejoin the world of the athletic when I can reclaim the title of Runner with the passion that currently eludes me.

I'll be back. Of that be sure. It might be a month. It might be six. I wish I knew. But, for now, I'm going to help my soul heal. Thanks for reading....

One day, I'll see you on the road again....