Reflections

I got the chance this week to run along the Iron Horse Trail in Walnut Creek California.  This is the trail I took my first run on, trained for my first event, and fell in love with running 8 years ago.  I haven't had the opportunity to retrace any of my previous footsteps for the last  several years.  I've had 4 great runs this week, filled with memories, random conversations with random runners, amazement, and new perspectives on my running "career".

I'm here in the Bay Area for my Mother's memorial service.  After a long illness of Alzheimer's and battle with diabetes, she passed away quite peacefully on Monday, October 24, 2011.  Although the mother I grew up with has been gone in many ways for several years, there were some very basic traits that remained until the end.  She looked the same until the very end with rosy cheeks, clear porcelain white skin (she had skin that people pay for), beautiful silver hair, sea green eyes, and a smile that lit up a room. Yes, she was different, but her spirit never changed.

As I was running along this familiar trail, I passed several parks I played at as a child and two pools I remembered visiting for swim meets.  These parks and pools brought the memories of my sweet mom alive.  I could almost hear her yelling, "kick, kick, kick," and embarrassingly, "Go Racy Tracy, Go!!" and I could feel her with me.   As the week and runs went on, I was lost in these memories, conversations we shared, milestones we celebrated, and gratitude for the time I had her in my life.

Thinking of my first painfully grueling runs, runs that I loathed and dreaded; I remembered talking myself through them, and refusing to allow myself to quit.  I was amazed at how simple going for a run is now compared to the ordeal of yesteryear.   My stride is longer and lighter, running is now a therapy instead of a torture, I feel strong and confident vs. awkward and unsure.  I trust my body to tell me when to turn around vs. the landmarks of the trail.  I have become a runner, intuitive, strong and sure of my stride.

I'm so grateful for the extra time I've had with her.  Though Alzheimer's changed her and stole her memories, it allowed me time to say goodbye.  Time to give this amazing woman, love, attention, and companionship she so freely gave me.  It has taught me that it's okay to cry and it's okay to laugh when things get ugly.  There are no rights, wrongs or rules....it's a journey and you do the best you can and make the most of it.  Yes, this disease is ugly, but I'll take every minute I had with my Mom and live it over again.......kind of like your first marathon....you just keep going, you laugh and cry, it gets ugly, but you do it all over again because the journey is well worth the experience.

I'll make it to Boston this year, of that I have no doubt.  I couldn't make it before because my Mom was unable to be there with me.  I know that she is up there rooting for me, and she'll be yelling and screaming and cheering for me when I cross that finish line.