Yesterday I signed up to run nine marathons over the next
two months. I read over that sentence and think, “Who am I?,” which could be
interpreted in a positive way, and “What’s wrong with me?”
In my last post, I started trying to explain why and
how I recently ran seven marathons in seven days, a ridiculous distance, for me, of more than 183 miles: http://alwaysatthestartingline.blogspot.com/2017/07/the-agony-ecstasy-whys-of-run.html
I write ‘started
trying’ because I still don’t know why I ran those races, the Mainly Marathons Prairie Series, and am still coming to
an understanding of how.
That post barely scratched the surface. I didn’t
write about the restless, forgetful fog I’ve been living in the last few
months, and how marathoning and being around marathoners brings me out of it and gives me joy.
Other things I left out include: the friends, loved
ones and runners – past and present – who inspired me and the other athletes out gunning for the finish line those days; my own past -- including a ton of unresolved anger and sadness; the
day-to-day logistics – an inadequate word for the organizational and emotional commitment
of the Mainly Marathon staff and volunteers. More to come on all of that at some
later point. The stories I heard and the acts of sheer will that I witnessed on
those seven days still overwhelm.
I don’t think it’s an accident that the day before
yesterday, the day I simultaneously maxed out my credit card and gave new definition
to my own marathon mania, my mom and I went shopping for gravestones. More
about that another time, too.
Shattering, shaking, quaking, shivering. Those are some of the words I associate with that two-hour visit as we sat with a salesperson and talked about
decorations my dad would like on his memorial stone, as though he would ever lay eyes on any fanciful designs ever again. I’m talking experiencing visceral reactions,
carefully hidden. God forbid that we of Irish descent show anything but stoicism in the
face of incredible loss.
Arrived home to a flyer in the mail from my father’s
hospice folks. Read the flyer and posted it on my refrigerator so I could refer
back to it. Thought I’d post bits of it here for anyone like me, working their
own way through the grief process. I’m guessing that’s pretty much most of us.
I’m sure that, like me, you’ve all seen the
following in one form or another. Consider this a helpful reminder. Thank you,
Notre Dame Hospice for the following words of wisdom, and for reminding me of
how normal I am.
If you feel you are ‘going crazy’ know you are not
alone. Some normal and very common responses people experience in grief are:
Recurring need to tell the story about the loss.
Restfulness, forgetfulness, and/or difficulty
concentrating.
Sensing the deceased person’s presence.
Changes in eating and sleeping patterns.
Crying and/or sharp mood swings.
Feelings of guilt or regret.
Weakness and lack of energy.
Healing from grief and regaining a balance in life
takes time. . . Remain patient with yourself and
nurture yourself, as you would a good friend. Remember, your grief is unique.
Now off to find some joy. Time to run.
