Today has been a difficult day. I’m not sure why. There are times when it’s obvious why I am having a challenging moment but others when the funk just sneaks up on me seemingly out of nowhere. I do know that part of it is because I am currently injured and cannot run. Those who have read this blog from the beginning and those that just know me, know that running saved me. Yes it sounds cheesy and dramatic but I laid on my couch for weeks, barely setting foot outdoors after Ariella died before setting out on that first run that got me moving again, forced me in the sunlight, and helped release some of those traumatic memories that were playing in a constant loop in my mind. Running was freedom and peace and a safe space where I could talk to Ariella and cry with abandon and tune out the world with music if that’s what I needed, or where I could dial in with the sounds, sights, and smells of the world around me, distracting me from the pain I was constantly enduring. I do still move but other exercise is a poor substitute for the release I get from running. It also is a bit triggering that my injury is in the same spot of the same leg as Ariella’s tumor. Every time I feel the soreness I feel her pain and also guilt. So much guilt. For not taking it seriously sooner, for not following up after the initial x-ray. The pain in my leg is bringing me back to the days before she was diagnosed and all the what-ifs.
I just returned from a trip to Colorado where I spent time with a dear friend, another bereaved cancer mom, and I think post-vacation blues may be contributing to my doldrums. I love Colorado. Simply being in the presence of those towering, breathtaking mountains brings tranquility. The fresh, crisp mountain air offers a sense of renewal and hope. It felt impossible to be unhappy in the abundant sunshine. But the most special part of the trip was spending time with my friend. Being with someone who understands without having to explain. Being able to talk about our children and cry without worrying about making somebody uncomfortable. Being with someone who doesn’t try to talk you out of your guilt, who lets you just feel without judgment. When I’m with someone who knows the horror and trauma on a visceral level I feel less lonely. And so this trip was much more than a mere vacation; it was a healing and poignant experience.
As part of this trip we hiked the Manitou Incline, a trail up the side of Pikes Peak consisting of 2,768 steps with an elevation gain of 2,000 feet in less than a mile. I’m no stranger to pushing my body to its limits and I’ve been wanting to tackle this challenge since I first heard about it. And a challenge it was. But that’s what I was seeking. Physical pain to distract from the emotional, along with a release of endorphins. Which brings me full circle back to running. Running not only alleviates my anxiety and offers distraction like hiking does, but it also brings me profound joy; I feel adrift without it.
