Running Through Grief

98 Days to Portland
196 Days to Houston

I've been dealing with the death of a very close friend, Jim. It wasn't unexpected, but, like they say, you are never really prepared.  You can be MORE prepared, but never actually prepared.  Trying to take care of myself and trying to help the family has thrown off my training a bit.  I missed a couple of days due to the visitation and funeral.  I have plenty of time to get back on track, but. . .

I woke up today very angry.  I wanted to hit things.  Scream at things.  Kick puppies (not really).  You know, just throw a classic toddler temper tantrum.  One of the bad things about being an adult is that you know it won't help.  Instead I found something I was able to do for my friend, Susan (Jim's daughter).  It was a small thing, but it does help me to help somebody else.  It's a win-win type situation. 

Then I went to the gym and ran fartleks.  I ran harder and faster than I usually do.  I imagined I was chasing down this thing I'm angry at.  Every pounding footstep was smashing its face in.  Every short recovery was just a small breather so I could torture it some more.  I left the gym spent and numb. 

I know this isn't an uplifting blog post, but I needed to get this out there.  You see, when my grandmother died I ended up having a breakdown and spent several days in the hospital.  It is remarkable to me that exercise is helping me deal with the loss of someone who, though not technically family, was as important to me as she was.  And running is a far more healthy outlet for my feelings.