running - Living with Grief

June 5, 2023June 5, 2023

Bayshore Marathon

After having to take a few weeks off from running due to injury I began PT and eased my way back into training for the Bayshore Marathon in Traverse City, Michigan. Unfortunately there were just a few weeks left before the race once I could run again so I was not as trained as I would like to have been. But my leg was feeling great and I was pretty sure I would be able to finish so made the final preparations and hopped on a plane with David and the long weekend was underway.

I chose this marathon for the scenic “flat” course (the race advertises itself as flat, it’s not flat, maybe flat compared to the rest of the area but there are hills!) but also because David’s college friends are in the area. Marathons are for the runners, not the spectators and I’m so lucky that David doesn’t seem to mind spectating and even seems to enjoy it at times, but by doing this specific race, this holiday weekend wasn’t just about me. We are fortunate that our friends have a home in the area and welcomed us in with open arms, excellent company, and Vitamin water.

We arrived the evening before the race and enjoyed a delicious homemade pasta dinner and beautiful sunset (at 9:15 PM!!!). That is a late sunset for these east coasters. Was hard to force myself to go to bed with it still being quite light outside but I knew I had an early morning ahead so after some logistical planning hit the sack for hopefully a good night’s sleep.

4:45 AM. Alarm goes off. I had gotten my stuff together the night before so get dressed, eat some food, and head to the race start. After getting through some traffic David dropped me off and it was then hurry up and wait. But I didn’t have to wait too long. It was chilly out, 38 degrees but actually didn’t feel too bad with a light sweatshirt and shorts. The worst part was walking through the wet grass for the bag check. Cold, wet shoes are never fun. But by the time I used the bathroom, checked my bag, walked to the start, met one of my favorite running podcasters (Ali Feller from Ali on the Run), used the bathroom again, it was almost time to start.

Lots of anticipation at the start. The sun was shining, the air was cool, and you could feel the nervous energy. Chatter all around me, people bouncing in place to keep warm, race strategies being discussed. When 5th place Boston Marathoner (among other many achievements) Emma Bates blew the air horn signaling the start of the race I took a deep breath and reminded myself not to go out too hard. It was a challenge not to do that since this race isn’t as big as some of the others. Plenty of room to take off without having to weave around other runners. I as typical went out faster than I planned and tried to pull it back but didn’t pull it back enough and I definitely paid for it the last third of the race or so. I don’t have a great race recap like previous races, mostly because this was an out and back course without many turns so the miles just blended together. So some moments that stood out:

The first view of the water
Seeing David at mile 6ish
The gorgeous homes we ran past
The man carrying the American flag the entire race
The rolling hills
Reaching the turnaround point
The lack of calf cramps at mile 18!!! (that’s typically around when they begin for me)
The cool breeze coming off the water (without it it would have been very warm)
Realizing I wasn’t going to make my A goal so backing it down a bit
Seeing David and friends at mile 20ish (with vitamin water but no banana)
The last few miles were so long and hard but realizing I could PR
Entering the track for the finish
Seeing David and friends as soon as I entered the track
The song Walls beginning playing as I entered the track
The noise of the spectators at the finish
Kicking it hard to the finish
Earning a 2 minute and 1 second PR
The pain in my legs and hips as soon as I stopped
Hobbling through the finish to the bag check
The delicious ice cream (mint chocolate chip)
Seeing David and friend
Trying to change my shoes (cramps in the bottoms of both feet) and then hobble to the car (which at that point seemed just as far away as the distance I had just run)

Overall this wasn’t quite the race I wanted but I knew it wouldn’t be with missing so much training time. I was quite sore after (more than usual) because of the missed runs but by the end of the day I was feeling much better other than unusual pain around my left knee. Which isn’t the leg that was injured. It was very achy and walking downhill and down steps was not pleasant, but it didn’t keep me from enjoying the rest of the weekend. That evening after satisfying my “runger” at a local joint another friend came into town to join the fun. We spent the evening just shooting the shit, enjoying each other’s company, and taking in the spectacular views by a fire.

The next day was spent seeing the area, visiting different towns, and enjoying our last day together. The trip culminated with a delicious taco dinner, hanging out at the house with some drinks, and of course another beautiful late sunset.

I love seeing new places on foot and this race was no doubt beautiful. A truly memorable race as part of a memorable course and just a small part in a memorable weekend. Having friends there made the race more special and getting to spend time with friends we don’t often see was priceless.

October 12, 2022October 12, 2022

My Chicago Marathon

Almost exactly a year ago I wrote a recap of my Baltimore Marathon experience (can be seen here: https://lifeafterchildloss.net/the-evolution-of-a-marathon/). The actual marathon was October 9, 2021, exactly 1 year before the Chicago marathon! The Baltimore marathon was not my day and I was looking for some sort of redemption. During my winter training for the spring marathon I was in the best shape I had been in for a long time and knew a Boston qualifying time was in reach. But then injury struck and I did not get my redemption. After that I just hoped I would be recovered enough to run the Chicago marathon.

I’m not able to recap the Chicago marathon the way I recapped Baltimore in part because I just don’t know Chicago so I don’t remember certain streets or where certain miles were, etc., but also because it was just so incredible and I was having so much fun (until I wasn’t, read on for the details) that nothing stood out for me in any particular area. It was all just great and the miles blurred together. I will do my best to share my feelings and emotions throughout the day, and really the whole weekend.

We arrived in Chicago Friday night, too late to do anything but settle in and try to relax a bit before the busy weekend ahead. The check-in line was long but the excitement was palpable. Mostly runners, all there with different goals but the same purpose, to run a great city. Saturday morning I joined a very large group for a shakeout run put on by Tracksmith Running. I was looking forward to meeting Tina Muir, former elite runner, and host of the Running for Real podcast. She is open to sharing her vulnerabilities so I felt comfortable approaching her to tell her my story and how a recent podcast guest who lost his son to cancer, resonated with me. We chatted a bit and I shared my story with her on the run as part of her podcast (neat episode, lots of different stories). The run was beautiful with lovely scenery and even lovelier people. I was nervous about my leg so it was a confidence booster to get out there and run a few easy miles. Really helped the nerves settle but also build the anticipation for the race the next day.

After this we hit the expo to pick up my race packet. I was looking forward to this but once there was completely overwhelmed. The crowds were ridiculous (which makes sense, over 42,000 runners descended upon Chicago) and after looking in a few booths David and I both felt the need to get out of there. Was a bit disappointed that I couldn’t just take it all in but I knew for my sanity it was not a good idea to continue to try to navigate the crowds. It would just exhaust me so instead of spending hours there we relaxed a bit before a pasta dinner, followed by dessert with his sister and family. We don’t get to see them often and it was a joy to spend some time with the kids whom we haven’t seen since 2016, when we took Ariella there to visit. My niece reminds me so much of Ariella that it was like she was there with us. The eye rolls, the attitude, the way she spoke. But by the same note, Ariella loved her cousins and they adored her, and her absence was glaring. But we talked about her and reminisced and before we knew it it was time to head back to the hotel for much needed sleep.

Sunday morning. Alarm goes off at 4:30. It’s race day!!! I got flat me ready last night so I wouldn’t forget anything this morning. I even made sure to have Ariella’s lucky panda tucked into the pocket of my hydration belt. I do all the things and join the thousands of runners heading to the start line. There is a buzz in the air, it’s electrifying. Not feeling too nervous yet, or much of anything else, just cold! Take in some more food and hit the bathroom a few times and then head into my start corral about 20 minutes before my wave starts and that’s when it all just hits me. What I’ve been through to get there. What I’ve overcome. Who I’m running for. Ariella literally on my back. All those that can’t run. That I don’t have to do this but I GET to do this. And I just start crying. And I don’t mean some quiet tears escaping, I mean full on bawling. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one. There was lots of nervous energy and the last 10 minutes before the start of the wave lasted a lifetime. Finally it’s time for wave 2 to start but as I was in the second corral of wave 2 I didn’t cross the start line until 8 minutes later. Oh but what I feeling once I did! The months of training, the injuries, the leg that’s not quite right, all the things that threatened to keep me from running this race, all in the past. As I stepped over that start line all I said to myself was “I am going to finish this race.”

Runners have different goals when running a marathon and though I said over and over (more to convince myself) that I wasn’t expecting to reach my A goal, and that wasn’t even my goal for this race since I was coming back from injury, it really was my goal. My A goal was a Boston qualifying time (3:50), B goal was sub-4:00 and C goal was to finish with a PR. And through 2/3 of the race I thought the farfetched was actually within reach. For 18 miles of the race I felt great! The first mile was electric. The crowd support cannot be described and I felt like I was flying. I was careful not to go out too fast. I was soaking it all in. The noise and cheers of the crowd, the music, the shared experiences. I saw David and after hitting that 1st mile mark I thought, that was easy, just 25 more to go! And it was easy. I was having so much fun and nothing could stop me. My pace was comfortable and I picked it up just a little after the first 10K. I wasn’t looking at my watch (which wasn’t accurate for most of the race anyway, hitting the miles too early) but just running by feel. I actually felt like my A goal was achievable. When I felt like I may be pushing too hard, I pulled back. I was trying to run smart and it was truly exhilarating. Nearing the halfway point I saw David again amongst hundreds of other people and was happy to still be feeling strong at that point. I allowed myself to imagine crossing the finish line achieving everything I wanted, but was still cautious. And it’s a good thing I was. Around mile 18 was when I thought I was in serious trouble. Out of seemingly nowhere both calves started cramping. That wasn’t enough to stop me initially but it certainly slowed me down and I saw my A goal slipping away along with the 3:50 pacing group. I almost wish it hadn’t felt like that goal was within reach because it made it that much harder when it disappeared with “just” 8 miles to go. I was begging my body to keep going, to not quit on me. To allow me to just run through it. I was thinking of Ariella, all the pain she went through and how she came through even stronger, how it didn’t crush her spirit even a little bit. And I kept running. And then I had to stop. I had to stretch. And I just started crying. I was so frustrated. I did everything I was supposed to do. The only thing slowing me down were the cramps. And they wouldn’t let up. The remainder of the race went on like that. I would run as long as I could at a pace my legs could handle and stretch when needed. I began walking through the water stops to give them even more of a rest. I downed pickle juice at mile 22 which is supposed to stop cramps in their tracks, but did nothing for me. Was hoping at some point they would just go away, but they didn’t. The sun was beating down and I started feeling really hot but I did not go that far to only go that far. Ariella never quit so neither would I. Between miles 22 and 23 you could see the sign for mile 24 on the other side of the road and I cannot express how much I just wanted to cut the course and get to mile 24! I didn’t of course but that 24 mile marker was just there, taunting all of us running by before we could make that turn to head back down towards the finish. At mile 23 I did the math and realized that a sub 4:00 marathon was within reach. To force myself to keep running I would find various markers and tell myself I just had to run to that marker, and then the next, and then the next. Less than 30 minutes to go, less than 20 minutes, less than 10 minutes, less than 5. I can do anything for 5 minutes. I know for sure that B goal is going to be achieved. At the top of a hill just 200 meters to go. Most were groaning up the hill but I welcomed it because my calves felt much better running up that hill rather than on the flat ground (plus that hill was nothing compared to what I trained on!). I practically sprinted up that hill. And then turn the corner and the finish line is in sight. I gave it everything I had. And I came in at 3:56:22, a 24 minute PR and my B goal for sub-4. Frankly I’m glad if I wasn’t going to make 3:50 that I wasn’t super close because I think that would have been more frustrating. I crossed the finish line and just started sobbing again. Tears of joy and tears of frustration. It wasn’t the race I wanted. But it was for a large part of it. I limped my way through the finish area, got my gear, changed, and then made the seemingly endless walk to meet David.

I was on a high the rest of the day. As we spent time in the city we could easily identify the runners by their awkward walking gaits (and of course the medals and other marathon gear)! All of us that ran wore our medals with pride the rest of that day. All around you could hear people talking about the race, their successes and disappointments, their accomplishments, their favorite signs, what it meant to them. The magic was still in the air as the city was overtaken by runners. As for us ,we spent time with dear friends of ours, also members of the childhood cancer community. Ariella and their daughter Ava were immediate friends and remained great friends in the short time they knew each other. Of course Ariella’s absence was once again at the forefront of my mind during our dinner but we were sure to leave her mark behind.

And just like that it was our last day in Chicago. We went to Under Armour to get my medal engraved, had a delicious breakfast and then headed home. The airport, just like the city, was taken over by runners and it was fun to be among them. I have run other big races before, Marine Corps Marathon in 2001 and NYC Marathon in 2006 but this one felt extra special. Maybe because with the advent of social media there is much more awareness about the race and activities surround the race, and more hype. Maybe it’s because more and more people seem to be taking up running. Being a part of a training group and also social media groups builds up the anticipation to race day. There is so much support and encouragement it’s impossible to not get caught up in the excitement. And following the race there are so many ways to share our stories. The city of Chicago, the various neighborhoods, the people, made this experience exceptional. I pushed through, didn’t quit, and had the experience of a lifetime. As for what’s next, I’m not sure. After the Baltimore marathon I was immediately ready to sign up for another race for my redemption. This time, not so much. This training cycle and race beat me up and I’m looking forward to a couple of weeks of no strenuous activity before deciding what I will do next. Thanks to all who supported and followed me on this road to marathon redemption. I was disappointed when I had to cancel my spring marathon but this marathon more than made up for it. And yet I know I still have room to grow so stay tuned!

September 30, 2022

Fall

You would think February through May would be the toughest time of year for me and it certainly isn’t an easy or fun time for me, but fall is harder. Fall was my favorite time of year. Fall was Ariella’s favorite time of year. Fall was the time for family. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, hayrides. Ariella’s birthday. My father’s birthday. The crisp air, the bright colors, the new beginnings. New school year, fresh starts, cool evenings, and the beginning of boots and sweater weather. Fall was comforting, like a warm blanket warding off the chill. Now it just mocks me, taunts me with what I no longer have. The quiet has replaced the laughter, the daily grind of just trying to survive has replaced the pranks, avoiding trick-or-treaters has replaced excited costume preparations, and while I still enjoy the fall weather and colors I miss everything else we used to do so much that it still physically hurts when I think about it. Fall is also when something was first wrong with Ariella but none of us had any idea how serious it would be. At that time Ariella had begun losing weight. We were working with the pediatrician to determine the cause but all her labs were coming back normal. Ariella had also been complaining of pain in her leg but it was off and on and an x-ray at the time showed nothing serious. She was given crutches but used them sporadically. She had them the last time we went apple picking, sometimes using them and sometimes just holding them and walking without any problems whatsoever. What if? What if we took that injury more seriously? What if we went for more follow-ups? What if we told her pediatrician about the leg pain? Would he have connected that to the weight loss and explored further? What if she started treatment sooner? What if we started treatment then instead of months later and maybe the tiny cancer cells wouldn’t have broken off and removing the tumor would have removed all the cancer? What if, what if, what if? Fall brings me back to all the things we could have done differently. I know this is illogical. I know hindsight is 20/20 and maybe none of that would have made any difference. But we will never know.

Last weekend we again went to CureFest, a childhood cancer rally. The first year we went was with Ariella, in 2018. She was in treatment for the second time and we were optimistic. You can’t lose hope. Hope is what carries you through. And CureFest for most is a time of hope and advocacy and seeing the possibilities. But for bereaved parents it’s different. The hope is gone. The only thing we wish for we can’t have. It’s important to advocate and make our voices heard so other children and families don’t have to go through it. Childhood cancer research is grossly underfunded and without all our voices it will continue to be so. But still. It’s still too late for our children and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t harbor jealousy, resentment, and bitterness. CureFest is very tough for me but I also plan to keep going. Anything we can do to provide even a little bit of comfort and joy to the children makes it worth it. And judging by the smiles that day and how busy we were, we were able to make many kids happy that evening. But even more valuable to me is getting to see other families we have met along the way. Especially the other bereaved parents. Because there is nothing like just being with others who understand.

I’m trying to keep busy and maybe even change the meaning of fall for me a bit. Trying to bring back some of the positive connotations so I don’t feel like I’m drowning. I’m winding down my training for the marathon which is good because my leg still isn’t feeling perfect. Nothing serious but not being able to give it as much time to rest has been a challenge. Fall is my favorite time to run so not being able to run as often as I would like is also difficult. But I am looking forward to the marathon and then exploring new opportunities, like becoming a run coach. I say if I ever were to change my job (which I’m not, I love what I do), I would go into something fitness related. Being a run coach would allow me that but also continue doing what I do. But I need to do something. Something meaningful, something with purpose, outside of my day job. I feel lost. I haven’t found my new identity, other than bereaved mother, and I want to be more than that. I just haven’t figured out how. Because no matter what I do, that person is in me, is me, even if those around me don’t realize it. I still find it to be such a strange dichotomy, suffering this terrible loss and being in significant pain every day, but also going about my normal life and even laughing and having fun. It shouldn’t make sense. And yet. Life goes on.

I still pay attention to signs everywhere, especially when times are especially tough. In addition to this rainbow, the name “Ari” was an answer in my crossword puzzle yesterday.

September 8, 2022

My Colorado Vacation, Etc.

It’s been a while. Not sure why. Just haven’t felt like putting my thoughts down I guess. Not much has changed and I bore myself with writing the same things over and over. I have been wanting to write about my vacation but I also haven’t because nothing I write will be able to capture how I truly felt. I’ve been on vacations since Ariella died and all have been good, but not like this. This didn’t feel like a vacation. This felt like a respite and it felt like coming home. For the first time since May 2019 (actually probably since February 2017 when Ariella was diagnosed) I felt like I could just breath (well other than not being able to breathe due to the altitude). I finally felt calm and at peace even though we were active the entire time. It was the mountain scenery, the fresh air, and the sun. It was the laid-back pace and the nice people. It was having so much to do outdoors and just being able to soak up nature. For a moment I didn’t have the constant feeling of despair and lump in my throat. Since Ariella died I have been plagued by physical symptoms. I just never feel quite right in my body. And I always feel anxious, uncomfortable in my own skin (honestly that’s been the case all my life but has increased to the nth degree since Ariella died). That feeling was much diminished for the two weeks we were away. I’m not going to recap our entire trip because it’s not about what we did but, but rather about how I felt, what it did for my soul. I felt Ariella there. I missed her of course. I imagined doing the activities with her. She would have loved the zip lining and rafting and the hiking. And the donkeys! She would have adored the donkeys! She would have loved all of it. There were signs everywhere. While I was thinking of her the entire trip, her loss and presence was felt in a different way, a way that I cannot really explain. And I finally felt like I may one day be, while not truly happy and never whole, at peace. I hope that we can actually move to Colorado in the near future. It gave me something I didn’t know I needed.

Every September (childhood cancer awareness month) since 2017 I have filled my newsfeed with facts about childhood cancer and my feed is filled with gold and facts from other childhood cancer parents. I don’t have it in me to do this year. I changed my profile and cover pictures and that’s the extent of it. I’m preaching to the choir and I’m just tired of having to educate others. September is overwhelming and sad and frustrating and inspiring and triggering and hopeful but mostly I just want to ignore it. I’m bitter and resentful. No matter what I do, no matter what changes with funding and research and medications, it’s too late for my child. And of course I don’t want any more parents to hear those words “your child has cancer” and of course I don’t want kids to keep dying. But I’m jealous. And every time I see a post about ringing the bell, clear scans, 5 years NED, I am so happy for that child and family AND I am so sad that it wasn’t also my child. All that said, I minimize my consumption of social media in September (I’m posting on Instagram for my running and Instagram and Facebook for Ari’s Bears but don’t scroll much) and just trying to get through the days as per usual. It is a shame that childhood cancer awareness directly relies on those experiencing childhood cancer. Some businesses/organizations get involved but not enough. I do hope for a day that September is as gold as October is pink.

I had intended to incorporate my running in this blog since it’s my way of working through my grief but I’ve neglected to do that as well (I am sharing my running on Instagram but not much here). Running is once again frustrating for me at the moment. I have finally almost returned to my fitness level pre-injury and am again feeling something going on in my right thigh/hip/groin area (same leg that had the stress fracture). I only ran one day last week, an 18-miler to try to give my leg some rest. My leg was okay during the run, no pain, but could feel twinges and niggles and some achiness. I wasn’t sore after and could walk normally so after a couple of days of rest I did my track workout last night. Same thing, could run with a normal gait without actual pain but definitely feel something going on. Rule of thumb is it’s okay to run through up to a 3 or so/10 pain level as long as you’re not limping and your stride doesn’t change but my fear is that I am at the start of an injury so if I continue running on it even without pain now, it will get worse and by the time I feel pain when running it will be too late. If I wasn’t training for a marathon I wouldn’t be so concerned. I would either lay off for a while OR try a couple more runs since if I was sidelined I wouldn’t miss a race. But I feel like it’s no win for me right now. I can take time off now and be undertrained and derail the fitness I gained back, or try a few more runs and risk injury. It’s really not a choice, I definitely am going to take some time off because I really want to get to that starting line. But it’s frustrating not knowing what actually is going on. Is it muscular, a nerve? Bone? There’s just no way to know. With my world being so overwhelming I rely on running to help clear my head and relieve some of my anxiety and stress. Life just seems that much harder when I can’t run. I don’t think this is a serious injury and that I will be back to it, but I wish that just one thing can go smoothly for me. Despite my leg being not quite right, I had a great run this weekend. I was scheduled for 18 miles and had a 12 mile race that day so added 6 miles at the track prior to the race. I thought running 24 laps would be awful but I actually found it quite meditative. Didn’t have to think or plan and could just enjoy the quiet. When it came time for the race I had no intention of actually racing it, was planning on doing it like all the long runs, at an easy, conversational pace. But I was feeling great and my pace was a lot faster than I planned or expected, giving me some needed confidence prior to race day. But of course my leg is putting a damper on things. There are just over 4 weeks until race day. Here’s hoping!

January 22, 2022

Running Towards Memories

On this frigid but beautiful sunny day, my marathon training took me to the BWI Airport bike path. As I was getting myself together to run 16 miles I was able to watch the sunrise and planes land. I don’t thank the weather app was right about the actual feel because it wasn’t windy. Though the temp was lower it felt better than last week’s long run, which was quite windy.

I have only been to this bike path once, with David and Ariella. We took her there to ride bikes. At the time we weren’t sure she could manage the more than 10-mile loop but she was a tough and fearless 8-year-old girl and did so with no problems. Though it has been almost 6 years since biking the path, I was running towards memories as I made my way around the loop. I remembered the horse we said hi too and then sitting on the bench nearby for a little break. Could one of the horses I saw today be the same one?

I remembered the long, steep hill she rode up without stopping, with not only David and me cheering her on but others on the path. Remembering Ariella’s strength going up that hill is how I got up that hill today. But of course remembering Ariella’s strength always is what gets me through tough times.

I remembered the nervousness I felt that she would crash into another person, or would fall when crossing an intersection. I remembered the wooden bridges and the overpass like it was yesterday. I remembered the relief that I felt when we completed the loop, making it unscathed. Had you asked me to describe the path before running today I would have vaguely mentioned a couple hills and horses. But while out there experiencing it once again it was as familiar to me as my own neighborhood. And it was both painful and beautiful. Because it felt like she was there with me, cheering me on like we had once cheered her on.

There’s not much to do but think when on long runs. My mind drifts but today Ariella was with me the entire way.

December 21, 2021August 21, 2023

Just Run

7:00 Saturday morning. Still dark with just enough light at the horizon to hint at the sun beginning to rise. Gathering with the running group to prepare for our scheduled 10-mile run. I don’t really know anyone in the group yet but chat with others while waiting to begin the run. As we start off I have no idea of anyone’s pace, whether I will be running with or near anyone. But it doesn’t matter. The camaraderie in knowing we are all there for the same purpose holds me accountable. We are running in an area I have never run before. The sky is beginning to lighten and we are surrounded by trees. It’s cool and overcast, the perfect running weather.

Runners are running various distances on this out and back course. We start as a group heading down the steep hill and quickly settle into our personal paces. I found myself alone much of the time on this run but not really. Plenty of other runners and walkers and even a couple of dogs. There were runners ahead and behind and mostly I just focused on the beauty of the world around me. The course may have been out and back but there was nothing ordinary about it. As I was running along the curvy road up and down the gigantic hills I couldn’t help but notice the splendor of the trees, the peacefulness of the reservoir, and the stillness. Much needed respite from the chaos of the world. On this run I was listening to my Peloton playlist (when on the bike you can “like” songs and they will then be put in a playlist on Spotify). The music was quite random, ranging from pop to rock, to 90s hip hop, to punk, to new wave, to Broadway, to classical. I love running to classical music, especially on long, easy runs. The classical songs that played on my run served as the perfect soundtrack to running in my picturesque surroundings. The music allowed me to run without distraction and just enjoy being in the moment.

The course was challenging but flying down those steep hills brought some joy. Memories of being a child with no limitations and no fear. Doing everything at top speed with no fear of falling. Running fast downhill brought a sense of freedom and flight, like I was temporarily escaping the pain and pressures on Earth. The moments were brief but exhilarating. Of course after every downhill there was a steep uphill, but oh what a sense of accomplishment as I crested the top and got to soar once again.

It felt great to gather with the others after the run and just share some of the experience, knowing that while we all have the same goal (to run a marathon) ultimately we are there for different reasons. And for now this is the place where I am just “me”. Not the bereaved mother, not the person wearing a mask pretending all is fine, but someone just there to run. Maybe my story will come out later, maybe not. In the meantime, I am going to just run.

December 9, 2021

Chicago Here I Come!

This will be a short post but I think important to note. I haven’t blogged about many of the positives that have happened, but in all honesty I feel like not much great has happened for me since Ariella died. Life has had its ups and downs but since Ariella died it has just been so many more downs than ups. With our non-fruitful efforts to have another child and our dog dying and struggles at work (for both of us) there hasn’t been so much to cheer for. Things just haven’t been going my way. So I want to share when they do. May not seem like big things but for me they are. It’s these tiny things that make life bearable, that give me something to look forward to.

First, David managed to score tickets for the Foo Fighters contest in May. And not on the lawn, but actual seats. I haven’t been to a concert in a long time and I have to really love a group for me to spend the money and deal with the hassle. Tickets don’t go on sale to the public until tomorrow but David got a presale code and was able to secure tickets on Tuesday (one day after I saw that they would be in town).

Second, this just happened;

I entered thinking there was little chance I would get in. I have been selected for every race that I have entered by lottery (3 times prior to this) and thought it wouldn’t happen again. But it did! Not only is this supposed to be such a fun and fast marathon, it will continue to give me something to look forward to and a purpose, something to work for. I feel more grounded when I have something to achieve. I don’t feel quite as aimless. So Chicago, here I come (in October)!

That’s really it for the moment. I haven’t experienced many positives since Ariella died so I want to note them when I do. Kind of a reminder that with the pain there can be moments of gladness.

December 8, 2021

Finding Meaning in Running

8:00 PM, double check my training plan, what’s on the schedule for tomorrow? Check the weather for the morning and refer to multiple apps and graphics to determine what to wear for my pre-dawn run. Lay out my clothes, not so simple for winter running. Time for the overanalyzing to begin. Need multiple options in case the weather forecast changes between now and morning (capris versus full length leggings, lined or unlined tights, how many shirts? Fleece-lined? What thickness? Do I need a shirt underneath? If I do this shirt I can go with just a vest but that shirt I need a jacket. Which socks? Calf-length wool or regular ankle length? Decision overload!

Wake-up bright and early. Well not so bright but definitely early. Check the weather again along with the apps to make sure I’ve got the right gear. Finally decide on my layers and get dressed. Head downstairs and finish getting myself ready with yes, even more decisions to make. Hat or ear-warmer? Lined or unlined? Buff for my neck or is it not needed today? Vest or jacket? Which jacket? Mittens without question. Get those extra items on, add my Garmin, headphones, reflective vest and headlamp and am finally ready to head out the door. Winter running takes a lot more preparation than any other time of year but it is worth it.

Step out the door and take in the crisp, cold air. I can see my breath. I’m feeling chilled but I know it won’t be long before I warm up. Make a couple final decisions (where do I want to run today and what do I want to listen to; music, Peloton run, podcast, or nothing (depends on my mood and type of run I’m doing)), press start on my watch, and I’m off!

I have been struggling to find meaning since Ariella died. What does anything we do, matter? What is the point of any of it? My reason for living is gone and I haven’t found new reason. I’m not happy and even if I have joyful moments they are tarnished; bits of happiness existing with exponentially more pain. I think the most I can settle for, at least for now, is some sort of peace and calm. And that’s what running gives me. Running forces me to focus on the here and now and block out the static buzzing in my brain. My long, easy runs give me time to take in the scenery, appreciate nature, and be appreciative of what my mind and body can do. I spend much of those runs thinking about Ariella, sometimes bringing tears to my eyes and sometimes a smile. I often shut off whatever I’m listening to (if anything) and just listen to the rhythm of my breath and the sound of my feet hitting the ground, the wind rustling through the trees, a dog barking in the distance. Not quite worried about pace, these runs are great for reflection or to just let my mind go blank.

What exactly is meaning? What makes a life meaningful? Is it having a purpose? Working towards a goal? In that sense, running gives me meaning. Currently my goal is to run another marathon. More specific my goal is to run a marathon with a PR and Boston qualifying time. Even when not training for a specific race, each run has its own goal. Whether it be to achieve a certain distance or pace, or just to get outside, get some miles in, get a bit of exercise, there is some purpose to every run. If I am doing these things just for me, is that really giving my life purpose? It’s giving me purpose, something to achieve, but what about greater meaning? Greater purpose? What about what I am living for. Running is not a reason for living. I still haven’t figured out my identity since Ariella died. Running gives me something to do and something to achieve, and maybe that’s enough meaning for now.

My marathon training began in earnest this past Saturday with a 10-mile run. The group training hasn’t started yet so I was solo. I felt unencumbered and at ease. I think even with the pain and discomfort often felt with running, especially during hard workouts, running is the only time I can quiet my anxious brain and feel some sense of calm. Running is not something I have to do, it’s something I get to do. And when I’m hurting and feel like I can’t go one step further I remind myself that this is a choice. Being able to run is a gift. Ariella did not have a choice in her fight. So for her I run. What better purpose is there?

December 2, 2021

Spent

I am drowning. I am underwater and overwhelmed. And it’s not my grief submerging me. At least not completely. I have never before felt so overloaded that I actually want to quit my job. I won’t quit. Mostly I love my job and there are too many benefits for me to leave, but I keep getting dragged under and cannot seem to crawl my way out and catch up with the demands for which I am being inundated. It has been one thing after another and I wish I could just throw in the towel. And while trying to survive with a part of me missing is not the cause of this specific stress, it certainly doesn’t help me manage it.

Exhausted does not begin to describe how I’ve been feeling. I am spent. I started this post 2 weeks ago and just left it because I haven’t had the energy for writing. And writing does take energy, a different energy than working, exercising, getting through the day. I’ve had a myriad of thoughts but not the wherewithal to put them on paper. Though I always feel better after, it’s draining to process and get it all out. When I’m finished with my responsibilities for the day I just want to lay on the couch and not have to think or act.

Since Ariella died, what used to be my most favorite time of year has become my most dreaded and painful. When I once looked forward to the crisp air, sweater and boots weather, apples and pumpkin spice, I now wish I could burrow myself under the blankets and hibernate until January. This is the third fall and holiday season without Ariella’s exuberance and delight at the apple picking and hayrides and festivals. The third first day of school with no one to take a picture of. The third time the best day of my life (and now one of the most heartbreaking) has passed without Ariella celebrating another year older. The third Thanksgiving without Ariella writing a menu, making place settings, decorating, and helping to cook (for about 5 minutes before abandoning me in the kitchen). A time of year that used to feel like new beginnings and fresh starts and family now feels just empty and meaningless.

I can’t seem to finish this post. Not sure why. I think just between working and trying to survive I can’t take on much else. It’s been another week now since I started this post and the hits at work just keep on coming. It seems like I get one step closer to getting caught up then knocked 2 or 3 steps back. I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter, it will get done, in the grand scheme it’s not a big deal, but as a person with anxiety that doesn’t work for me. So while I was counting the days until Thanksgiving break, now I am counting the days until winter break.

So Thanksgiving. Not sure what to say about that. The day as a whole mostly was fine. Turkey Trot with friends and family in the morning was a good start to the day. I thought just maybe I would be okay. This was the first year since Ariella died (the 3rd Thanksgiving) that we attempted a “normal” Thanksgiving with family. And it just wasn’t good (not the fault of any of the people in attendance). No sooner did we arrive than I wanted to leave. Sitting at a table, listening to the chatter and conversation around me, no one acknowledging the missing daughter, granddaughter, cousin. Smiles and laughter and celebration and it was just wrong. I had no appetite, no desire to interact with anyone, and finally told David I had to get out of there. Pretty much ran out without saying goodbye to most people. David and I are fortunate that we have understanding family. They would have supported us if we chose not to attend at all and they supported us when we cut the evening short. I have friends in similar positions whose families aren’t so understanding. They aren’t allowed to grieve in the way the need to, to take care of their needs. They are made to feel selfish. Honestly, those grieving especially an untimely loss need to be selfish sometimes. The pain is so excruciating that the only way to protect ourselves and get through is to be selfish, avoid the events, stay home, whatever we need. On a day of thankfulness it’s awfully hard to be grateful when your child is dead. But I am thankful that I don’t have to pretend like I’m okay and fake being normal and put myself in situations that are not good for me.

David and I are going to another bereaved parents retreat. When we were invited immediately we jumped at the chance and booked our plane tickets. But there have been periods of time where I’ve had mixed feelings. These retreats are a rollercoaster of emotions and at times I’ve been wondering if I have it in me right now to let those feelings out and absorb the grief of others. In the past couple of weeks I’ve realized how much I need this retreat right now. It again won’t be easy but just the promise of reuniting with friends is what has been getting me through lately. We have also been planning a couple other trips and just having something to look forward to and keep us busy planning makes a difference. Getting away from home helps a lot. Sometimes I think it would just be easier to move away, start somewhere else, in a place that feels “normal” without Ariella. There is no right thing to do. What feels good in one moment may feel terrible in the next. Ultimately it is still just getting through the days minute by minute.

I have been taking up running a lot more lately. I was considering starting a running blog but after some thought I don’t think I need a separate place for that. This blog is about living after the death of a child and running has become a large part of my life again to help me get through the days. Getting back into running as much as I have is as much for my mental health as it is for my physical health. Actually more for my mental health. So I’ll be sharing my running journey here as well. I ran a bit in high school and college but really got into it in my late 20s/early 30s. After an injury sidelined me I was frustrated when I couldn’t get back to where I was. While I never stopped running I did decrease quite a bit because I was worried about getting injured again. I continued running recreationally but had sworn off further racing. In February 2020 I was convinced to sign up for a 10 miler that June, pretty much for the shirt. Well we all know what happened there but I did do the run virtually. When in-person racing resumed earlier this year I felt the need to be a part of it and even though the race itself was pretty miserable (the hills were so ridiculous as to be defeating) it actually felt good to be a part of something bigger, a part of a community, even though that is usually the opposite of my whole being. So here I am. Back to signing up for races, running marathons, joining a racing team and a training group. Joining a team or group by the way, is way out of my comfort zone. But while one reason I love running is because it is a solitary sport, I have recently discovered the value of also running with others. I have set some goals, with the ultimate goal to qualify for the Boston Marathon (I wasn’t too far off with the Baltimore marathon considering the pain I was in and the difficulty of the course). So that journey will also be documented here, because having a goal, having something to work towards (who am I kidding, something to obsess about) is giving me some of that purpose I have been looking for.

October 10, 2021January 31, 2022

The Evolution of a Marathon

The morning of, hours before the start. Gotta get up! Gotta get moving! The race is in 3 hours! Gotta get dressed, gotta eat, gotta get there super early to secure parking, use the porta potty at least 3 times, figure out logistics, stand around and wait.

Ok, we’re here, just 2 hours until the start. Let’s wander. Let’s wish people luck for the 5K. Ok, now back to the starting line. Just 20 minutes to go. Where do I line up? Where I expect to be or where I hope to be? I know, somewhere in between. Oh, they’re moving forward, good luck kisses goodbye, let’s do this! Just 10 more minutes to start! Let’s stand around more and wait. Finally, the National Anthem and the wheelchair racers (amazing athletes by the way) and now it’s our turn! There’s the gun! Let’s.. walk slowly in a large pack to the starting line. Okay, hit the starting line, let’s go!!! I’ve got this!

Wow, the beginning is straight uphill. But feeling good and strong. I’ve got this. No music, just listening to the sounds around me. Hey, “Fight Song” is playing on on someone else’s music. Ariella is here! Heading toward the zoo. Maybe we’ll see some animals! Ooh, lots of downhill. This is wonderful. Didn’t see any penguins, bummer. But loved the guy in the lounge chair just chilling who gave me a thumbs-up! Hey camera man, feeling good, don’t make me look weird! Leaving the zoo, still lots of downhill.

Some boring stretches of the run but soon heading towards miles 8 and 9. A spot where David may catch me. Great crowd with lots of excitement, but no David. Oh well, I know I’ll see him at the halfway point. Nearing mile 10. Shit my foot is cramping. Prone to cramps but not usually while I’m running. My ear just popped, what the fuck?! Everything sounds like I’m under water. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come. Not even halfway done. What a boring stretch of run but I see runners coming back this way so there must be a turn around soon. Where the fuck is that turn around? Is that it? Nope, that’s the turn around for the 5K. Still going. This road is boring and long. Oh hey, there’s the Under Armour Headquarters! That’s where I got my Covid vaccine. Ah finally, we get to turn around and I get to head back to the large crowd of supporters. Oh hey! Some cheers from friends through RaceJoy! And text messages! So cool to be able to get that support while running.

Coming down the stretch and my bright pink arm sleeves paid off because David spotted me from pretty far away and I saw him wave to me. The cheering is incredible. Feeling strong and fast! Grabbed some water and continued on. The next few miles unremarkable. Feeling some twinging in my calves, especially my right one but doing okay. Still on pace to finish under 4:00. And now my other ear popped. This has never happened when running before. My breathing sounds even worse, like Darth Vader breathing directly in my ear. Not distracting at all. Hear my name being called! It’s my ex-sister-in-law! So glad to see another friendly face. Especially during such a quiet stretch. Slowing down a bit but here comes Patterson Park and mile 16! The crowd support is incredible! Can’t slow down here!

Who the fuck knew Baltimore was so damn hilly? I’ve done this before, I must have blocked it out. Where the hell is Lake Montebello already?! I need to see that mile 20 sign. Have to keep stretching my calf. Not only is it sore but I can feel it spasming or twitching or moving like some sort of weird alien invading my body. Ah here we go, heading into Lake Montebello. But what the fuck is that hill I see after we exit the lake? I thought the last 5 miles were mostly down hill? Ok well let me make my way around the lake. What the fuck RaceJoy app! I am not at mile 21! I just passed mile 20.

Okay, made it up those hills after the lake. That’s all the uphills, right? Right? Shit, nope. Still on pace to finish at around 4:00 but I am hurting. Feet keep cramping and forcing me to change my gait. Now my quad is hurting. But I am going to make it. Maybe. Just going to walk up this hill to the traffic light. Okay, just across the intersection. Okay, after I drink some water. Shit, I’m out of water. Okay I’ll run to the next water station. Oh hey, someone handing out water. Just what I needed. Thanks to the person who said go Ariella Strong. You helped me through another block. Hearing her name was a fantastic gift. Thanks to the person who yelled go pink sleeves! Oh hey, these people are talking about a dog named Sherman! What are the odds? Evidence of both Ariella and Sherman. Hey guy in Winnie the Pooh outfit. I appreciate the distraction because I am really starting to worry here. My calves hurt, I can’t hear, and my water keeps leaking. I AM GOING TO FINISH. These kids on my back endured a hell of a lot more and they had no choice. Also I am way more than 2/3 done this King Crab Challenge and that medal is badass. I did not come this far to not get that damn medal! Ok, let’s do some walk run intervals. Still on pace to crush my PR. No sub 4:00, but hopefully sub 4:30. Ah Eye of the Tiger guy. A fixture at every Baltimore Running Festival.

Mile 25 and Gatorade. Thank you thank you thank you. A great excuse to stop running. Holy fuck my calf just complete seized up and I can’t move it. Let’s try stretching it. Thanks volunteer at the water stop but I do not want the medical tent right next door. I have 1.2 to go and I WILL make it across one way or another. I am running for those who can’t so I have to finish. These names are keeping me going. Plus people are tracking me so gotta keep going. Okay, let’s walk while I drink my Gatorade. Quick text to David to let him know where I am and that I’m hurting. Phone away and I am running to the end. Or not. Fuck you again RaceJoy! I did not finish! I am not even at mile 26 yet! Somewhere between mile 25 and 26. Quick stretch of my calf. Shit shit shit. My entire leg is one big charley horse. Fuck! Okay, easing up. Now to stretch the other. Fuck! Another one. Ah hell. Not now. Please let me just finish this thing. Thank you nice strangers who stopped with me to see if I needed help. Thank you for walking with me and then running with me. It’s the camaraderie that makes these races so special. Woo hoo! Mile 26. There is no stopping me now! Yes sir with the sign, I will make this last .2 my bitch. No one will see my pain. Hey, I hear my name again, where is it coming from? Ah over there! It’s David! And my mom! Just a few steps to the finish! And I’m done! And I’m in pain. And I’m sobbing. So glad that’s over. No thanks, I don’t need a wheelchair, probably should try to walk and keep moving. Okay, let me refuel and meet up with David and my mom. Maybe I should have taken that wheelchair. Nah, I’ll be alright. What the hell was my finish time anyway? Didn’t even notice the clock. Shit, now I have to wait until results are posted. Ah here they are, 4:20:20. Okay, not what I was hoping for but crushed my PR by 35 minutes and under 4:30. Going to enjoy this delicious beer and then relax and not think about running for a while.

Advil and the Theragun seemed to help with the calf pain and our sushi dinner hit the spot. So glad to have an excuse not to workout the next few days. Hmmm, I wonder what the best marathons are?

The next day, calves and quads are sore but not debilitating, though steps are not my friend. I wonder what kind of time I would need to qualify for Boston? Hey, I would only have to cut 30 minutes off my time. I could do that on a flat course, right? And if I can get these muscle cramps under control. Let’s look up some marathons…

But seriously, this doesn’t even capture all the emotion and and euphoria and pain I experienced throughout. When I started getting foot cramps at mile 10 I started getting a little worried. And my calf pain showed up in full force at mile 16. The names on my back, the kids still fighting, and all my supporters are what kept me going. I am so proud of my accomplishment but I am also disappointed because I had such a difficult time. It may have been my fastest time but I felt much better the last marathon I did (New York in 2006) and I was hoping for that experience again. So the journey continues…