I skipped my run yesterday. A splitting headache, a terrible night's sleep and a lot of packing to do convinced me to skip. It didn't take much convincing. I don't love to run (if you needed that reminder). When I signed up for this race, I thought one of the reasons was to have something just for me. In my very new-age mindset, I decided I really wanted some meee time. True as that may be, let's be real. "Me" time will almost always involve chocolate and a tabloid magazine. Running, it turns out, is not panning out to be "for me."
Not long after I began training, a precious woman Ross and I knew was killed. She led a running group in Macon. The jerk who killed her also cut her limbs off. The legs she used to run have not been found.
Mike Reed is battling a new pre-cancer on top of the 10-year battle with lymphoma he is still battling. One of the side effects of treatment is not being able to walk well. Hospice is a word that has been used. But he has full faith that he will survive. He has a two-year-old little boy, a little boy he cannot run alongside.
And today, my best friend (the one who convinced me to do this race) sent me this. Please, please read it. Katrina's friend was killed in Afghanistan after delivering cholera medicine to a village. He left behind 3 children, never having met that last little girl. He inspired his wife to run. Her story is beautiful. She is running an ultramarathon for many reasons, mostly to keep her husband's memory alive, to bring attention to fallen soldiers, and to heal her heart.
Today I won't skip my run. I'll pray for my girl to not scream her head off in kids club. And then I'll run. Not for me, but for Lauren and Mike and John Hallett. I'll run for the people who can't. I'll run for those struggling with obesity, those like my me-maw who are barely able to walk, much less run. I'll run for the mamas with breast cancer and the former athlete in bed with AIDS. Today, I'll run because I CAN.