Why I Run...

When I was a kid, and even into my teenage years, when I was upset, I would run. When I was happy, I would run. When I was bored, I would run. When my best friend and I got into a fight, I would run (There was one memorable time when my best friend’s sister and I got into a fight and I climbed a tree. But that is a whole different storyJ). The point is that I ran. I loved to run for any reason and even for no reason at all. It was healing, calming, exciting all rolled into one.

Then, exactly 15 years ago today, my world fell apart. My Dad died. My Dad. I could never talk to him again. He couldn’t teach me anything again. He couldn’t make a bad joke that I would give a sympathy laugh to again. When my Mom told me, my body registered what she said before my mind did. I fell, my knees gave out and I fell to the ground before I even realized what exactly she said. There was no time for a run then. No ability for one even. We had to get home, pack and drive to Louisiana where the rest of my family was and where my dad would be buried. No time for a cleansing run. Only time to drive. Only time to build up some walls that might protect me in the days to come.

Skip to getting to the funeral home where I am expected to help my MeeMaw pick out a casket. We chose a nice blue one that I think my Dad would have liked…I guess. Time for the family only viewing. What a torturous tradition. Why do we do that? Closure? Wasn’t closure for me. In fact, it was the exact opposite. One glance, one tiny glance, at the coffin where my dad lay so still and white and the walls I had so carefully built up came crumbling down. I turned and fled. That’s the only way to describe it. I fled. I only wanted away. I didn’t care where, only away. I ran down the aisle, out the door of that horrible room and busted out of the front door as fast as I possibly could. I was gone and I was not coming back. Ever.

My sweet, strong uncle, who had just lost his only sibling, reacted too quickly. He caught me around the waist as I ran through the door. I wasn’t fast enough. He held me while I screamed at him to let me go. He held me while I screamed that my dad was dead, really dead. He held me while I cried.

His reaction was the best thing for me at the time. I was a grieving sixteen year old girl with no money or cell phone on me, in a strange town, no way to protect myself if the need arose (although had it done so, I think my unspeakable grief and anger would have gotten the job done).The only problem is that I would never get that cleansing run that I so desperately needed. I would only build up more walls. I would never actually deal with any of my feelings. Life would go on. I would watch them bury my dad, I would drive back to Arkansas, try to go back to school, to work and survive. I would get married at a ridiculously young age, give birth to my first daughter a year later. My marriage would turn extremely abusive, bit by bit. I would have 2 more daughters and I would nearly lose my life getting out of a marriage that was only a sham anyway. And still I would not get that cleansing run. I would only build more walls.

I met Joseph, we got married and had our first son. We both got our degrees and tried not to be too stressed out. I still didn’t run. Not for happiness, which I certainly felt. Not for stress, which I certainly had but the walls I built did begin to fall, piece by piece. Joseph adopted my daughters, which only made sense as he was the only father they knew and the only one who deserved them. I still didn’t run. We had our sweet Josiah, our little surprise, and he has completed our family in so many ways. And still I didn’t run

Then one day, I decided to. I had only one reason in mind: to lose weight. But when I ran something unexpected happened. I began to remember my love for it. I began to remember why I had done it in the past. What was left of the walls that I built came down. I grieved, I rejoiced, I ran.

So, why do I run? I run for stress relief. I run because I am happy. I run to work out. I run for sanity in my crazy life. I run to meet my goals. I run to improve myself. I run when I am upset. I run when I am overwhelmed. I run when I am confused. I run because I can. I run because I am alive and my Dad isn’t. I run BECAUSE. I. AM. ALIVE.

~KC