Sunday, October 20, 2013

Running Even Cures a Broken Heart

I drove to NY this weekend to bury my father.  He actually passed away some time ago, and it's a long story, but we just had our small family service for him this weekend.  He was buried with his mother and grandparents in Westmoreland, NY (which is basically ridiculously far from everywhere).

He was not the best father.  His demons had a strong hold on him for most of his life.  The periods that we were close (and I was his only child) were never very long, and weren't very often.  You would think that might make it easier to say good-bye to him, but it didn't.

Saturday morning before we packed ourselves into 2 cars to drive there, my cousin Amy and my cousin-in-law Cindy and I went for a run.  It was the best possible thing I could have done to clear my head, and work out some of the anxiety, and focus on really being present for the day.

We were running on small country roads around the lake, so there wasn't a lot of shoulder.  This was my view.  These fabulous women pulling me along as I ran behind them.  

 It was a very pretty morning.  There are some gorgeous old buildings in Cooperstown.

We are in various places in our running.  Amy is officially signed up for a full iron-man.  Cindy is beginning to train for a marathon in the spring (she just finished her Phd, she's been busy), and I'm building my milage back up from my broken foot.    But we ran together.  And talked along the way.  It was exactly what I needed.  

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