This post began shortly after I finished my last marathon, 3 weeks ago. Yet for some reason, my ability to actually complete and upload it remained incomplete. Even as I prepare today to run my next, a 50k (31 mile) race here in Canada, I am still not sure of its readiness.
On June 2, I ran my first marathon in memory of someone else; I hope I do not need to make it a regular motivation. (See my pre-race blog post about my fallen co-worker Andrew Reisse.) Running provides a cathartic release for me, and since plans for the trip were set before the tragedy, and my usefulness in not running would have been minimal, I chose to still travel to Minneapolis for the race.
I learned of the tragedy from our co-worker, Michael, who was also Andrew's roommate at the University of Maryland 15 years ago, who phoned with the shocking, horrible, head splitting news. That call remains haunting. Yes, I have lost family members (all my grandparents, a great grandmother and a series of great uncles and aunts, my "second set" of parents from growing up), but those were all at the end of long lives or illnesses. The suddenness combine with the young age of Andrew and the potential he had to add to the world are like a riven in reality. Just a few days ago, I was cycling for a few hours, and I could clearly hear his voice in my head. I am even more heartbroken for his lovely parents and brother. I could barely call Andrew a friend; we shared working at the same company, and we had found time to talk about mutual passions. However, we had not progressed past that stage yet. For his family, as well as my co-workers who have known him since the 90's, I can barely get my head around this tragedy.
So I run. And I talk.