Last Sunday, I went for a nice long walk in the afternoon. At one point along my route, I came to a busy street. I looked both ways, then jogged across the street before the next wave of traffic was released from the stoplight. Oh, and I kind of forgot to stop jogging…
Although I only ran for about two minutes that day before slowing back down to a walk, I was amazed at how wonderful it felt. For days afterward, I felt an overwhelming urge to run. As I’m committed to my goal of recovery, I did not give in.
Lately, romanticized memories of running fill my head. My mind is like a montage of meaningful running moments, played in a hazy slow motion with a cheesy soundtrack. It got me to thinking about loss, and how when we lose something we love, it’s as though a part of us has died.
That, my friends, is the thought process that got me to write an obituary of running.
An Obituary of Running
Kate Hearn’s running career came to an abrupt halt on Tuesday, June 18 at 11:00am after a shocking doctor’s appointment. She began running regularly in March of 2009, while training for her first half-marathon.
Her true passion ignited in the spring of 2011, shortly before her marriage. That fall, she completed her second half-marathon, and was immediately hooked.
In 2012, she ran a total of nine races: two 5Ks, one 8K, two 10Ks, and four half-marathons. In May of that year, Kate received a medal for 1st place in her age group at the 10K for Tin Cans, and for 4th place in the Freedom Run that July. Running became a form of therapy for Ms. Hearn. Ater a worthy five-miler, no predicament seemed too sizable to conquer. She ran through joyful times; she ran through anxious times. She ran with friends; she ran alone. Some runs were perfect; some were horrific.
In 2013, Kate trained for and completed a full marathon. She swore at the time that it’d be her one and only.
Post-marathon, Kate enjoyed running for pleasure. She distinctly remembers her last run on Saturday, June 15. While visiting family and friends in St. Louis, MO, she had the pleasure of running through Forest Park. For one hour, at dawn, in solitude, with light raindrops landing on her cheeks, and a fresh Jillian Michaels’ podcast in her earbuds, Kate’s last run was sheer perfection.
Although Kate is not physically running at this time, the spirit of running lives inside of her. She looks to the future with hope that one day she will return–stronger than ever, and with a new insight that will allow her to run safely and healthfully for many years to come.