I was leaving for a run when my father called to me that my mom had fallen. I waited with him for the ambulance, made sure all was in order at the house and then ran. I visited my mother daily. Everyday I ran. When the phone call came early in the morning that my mother had passed away - I drove my father to the Hospice where she had spent her last days. My father and I sat with her body for quite some time. Later that day I ran for many hours. We buried her on a very cold winter morning. The afternoon wasn't much warmer. I bundled up for my run. I learned how to run on the trails mourning the loss of my marriage - seeking a double healing of remote steps while lost in nature. There were entire days spent in motion. My steps became a healing prayer and the trail a return path to a sense of peace. I ran for forgiveness and to forgive.
Running has allowed me to escape nothing - it has
laid out my grieving path in steps of
acceptance and compassion.
Running was the moment of my healing.
Peace,
Eric