23 days before matt drowned, I started to run.
I know it is 23 days because according to something I read once, if you do something for 21 days in a row, it becomes habit. I wanted to run. After years of believing I was not built for running, I still wanted to run. Every single day after work, no matter how annoyed or tired, I put on my old sneakers and ran/walked as best I could the half mile up to the pizza place and the half mile back. It wasn't easy, but it was effortless, right from the start. The friday before the sunday he died, I hadn't run yet. We were settled onto the couch after a late dinner. It was after 10 pm, but I couldn't keep still. Just a short little run. I wasn't fast, and I couldn't get far, but it had become habit. That Friday was day 22.
On the way to the river that morning, Matt said maybe he would start doing 300 push-ups a day for the next 21 days, and just continue the rest of his life. Do I need to finish that sentence? To finish that thought? That the rest of his life was less than an hour from then.
After that day, I tried to run. I tried to run even though I couldn't eat. A friend with whom matt had hiked at 12,000 feet in the Rockies just 6 days before told me that, on that hike, Matt said how proud he was of me and my running, how thrilled he was at how proud I was of myself. All through everything after he drowned, I wanted to run. I wanted to not let him down. Grief and pain, and eventually, injury, took over though. Running stopped. For one long winter, even walking had to stop. Grief settled into my body and I couldn't move.
This spring, I started couch to 5k, for the third time, I think. When I realized that if I kept with it, I would reach the 5k point by exactly two years and nine months, I kept going. Now at three years and nearly two months, I'm still not fast. My feet hurt a lot. But I run three to five times a week, 30 to 40 minutes at a stretch.
Today I flashed on a conversation we had, Matt and I, me telling him that I want to know what this body is actually made for. This body I've been wearing around. I know I am not built for speed, I told him, but I think I might be made for endurance. I think I might be made for distance. Matt was an incredible being. A body so completely unlike mine - strong, light, powerful. He could do feats of strength and agility that impressed long-time pros and practitioners. He naturally mastered any sport, typically proficient at his very first try. I loved to watch him move. He made me want to move more, to be stronger and faster and just - more. I knew I couldn't be him, but I wanted to know what was me. Endurance, maybe. Slow and steady, for a very long time.
On the recommendation of my osteopath, who needs to fix my feet every few weeks, I read Born to Run, finishing it today with a long slow read on a rainy day. Towards the end, I could not stop crying. Crying, and wanting to run. Crying, so moved to read love and running and joy all woven into one. Crying, and wishing he was here. Knowing he would be set on fire by this book, that he would immediately set about logging hours and miles, pushing himself on bare feet over mountain passes. Crying, knowing that long distance running feels like it might be my home, slow and steady, and that he is no longer here - for me to watch, for me to learn from, for me to be aggravated by his coaching and correction. Crying for my loss and for his.
There's a lot more in this book that got to me, but I don't want to spoil it for anyone. If you read it, you'll most likely know. And nope, there is no sudden widowhood lurking in the pages. No four tombstones here. Enough to say that, just as when he and I first met, I feel an old slow lock gliding into place. I won't ever be fast, but long, slow, and steady might just be my home.
.
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It seems to me that you were practicing your endurance every day, even when you couldn't run. My sons and I lost my husband, their father, two years and 4 days ago, and I'm still working on my endurance.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this post. It was very touching.
thank you samantha.
DeleteI will try to read "Born to Run" sometime soon. I just read some of the reviews and it sounds fascinating. Have you ever read Bernd Heinrich's "Why We Run"? I have not, but have so enjoyed all of his other natural history books that I am sure I would find it interesting.
ReplyDeleteFor several years in the 1990s, I ran about 2 to 5 miles every day, summer and winter. I never ran in the road except during winter. I ran on the trails on our farm. It was so enjoyable running on earth rather than pavement. When I was a kid, I and a few friends used to like to pretend we were horses and would tear through the woods and fields, leaping over fallen trees and dodging rocks like wild mustangs. We would canter instead of running like humans and it seemed like we could just. Quite funny, but a couple of years ago, I was talking to a friends wife and it turned out that she used to do just the same thing - pretending to be a horse and racing through the woods with friends. No doubt, this is a common fantasy. Anyhow, all that to say how much joy that running can bring. I don't really run these days - just getting a bit old to do the kind of running I like - over rough terrain. I just can't risk a serious fall at this point. However, what appeals to me very much is to do a long walk - as in a thousand miles or more. I know a woman who walked almost the entire length of South America in three years after her husband died. I actually considered something like that after Don died, but Sabrina was so decrepit and I had to think of her. Now that she is gone, thoughts of going on a long walk have returned. It may happen. it's good to have dreams.
oh the thousand mile walk. I wanted to do that so much in the soon After. Bo isn't too old for it at least in his mind, but it would be rough on his feet and legs. If I outlive Boris, the long walk dreams may return.
DeleteMaybe you could do a lesser walk at a pace that Bo could handle - perhaps during the shoulder season when there are less people on the trails. I will kind of be doing that this autumn, Or at least that is the plan. On my way to the southwest, I intend to do quite a lot of hiking on trails going out from places I have camped in the past with Sabrina, but this time, taking the really long loops. I would love to do something like the Pacific Crest, Continental Divide or the TransCanada. It could happen now that it is just Sage and me although she doesn't seem to be quite the all-day hiker the way Sabrina seemed to be. Sabrina seemed to take a lot of pride in being the quintessential trail dog. Well, in any case - walking or running - do try to find a way to get out there in the trails as much as you can. It's so good for the mind, body and soul. I have plans to do some of our old trails before leaving Ontario this autumn - even our Anniversary Hike trail - yeah, especially that one - on our anniversary. Seems just about time.
ReplyDeletepacific crest trail! You can do parts of it on horseback, so I hear. I just hiked a new-to-me trail this morning. I know matt didn't know it - we would have been there. Climbed a small waterfall/rapids, went barefoot on big rocks, laid in the water. This is the first time since he died. Beautiful and painful both. Also found a secret little beach he would have loved to explore.
ReplyDeleteHoping to do this a lot more when we make the move to the NW. Boris is always up for a hike, just maybe not for months on end. Whole day though, no problem.
.Cool that you explored a new trail and secret beach. Yes, some things feel painful, but there can be a form of catharsis in doing that which hurts - or at least that has been my experience. It sounds like you are resolved to go to the NW. It is beautiful there. I have done a lot of hiking in Oregon and northern California -not so much in Washington, but it is all beautiful, rugged, and you can easily find places of solitude.
DeleteJust beautiful, Megan. Very strong well crafted piece of writing.
ReplyDeleteCan I just say re: endurance, not wanting to risk your ire: Well, duh.
You're still here aren't you.
I'd say you can do any damn thing you want. In the Now.
no ire - I realize the irony of being so good at endurance.
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