It’s been months since I’ve went for a run. For weeks I’ve walked past that darn treadmill starring me down. I’ve tried not to make eye contact with it, I’ve covered it with stuff, I’ve pretended it was there, terrified to step back on my old friend.

Nothing makes me feel as old as the first few days back to running again. Feeling the ache in my muscles, my bones, my every breath, but that’s not what has had me so scared.

It was all that time to think.

All that time alone. All those minutes on the treadmill, remembering. I knew the thoughts would come flooding. The memories, the moments in my head, the endless Grief,  would overwhelm me.

Yesterday I caved & wearily took the first steps forward. Yes, the memory of my Mother’s final months, last days, completed breath, came rushing in, and I couldn’t stop them. Regardless how loud I played my music, or starred at the wall, my moment alone provided an open door, and everything came flooding in..

Today it happen again. Physically exhausting but more emotionally draining, I ran those 3 miles, each step thinking of my Mother’s life. The waves of sadness sandwiched in between all of the joy that was her.

I concluded today to turn my running into something more. I promised myself to run the next 64 miles in her honor- once for each year of her young life.  It’s not big news, no money being raised, just something I am doing for myself and for my mom. (and for anyone who stumbles on this blog) I know I can’t change what is, but I know she would want me to put one foot in front of the other. 59 miles to go.

I had no idea what missing someone was like, until my mom passed. (that’s a whole different blog post) The grief is real, and will be for as long as I live, but for the next 64 miles my mission will have a small purpose.

There’s a real life lesson in running through grief and not away from it.