Tag Archives: grief

Today’s Reason: Grief

I’m such a fricking downer lately. Well, okay, sometimes there’s a glimmer of happiness and relief, yet most of the time I’m in a I-hate-the-world-and-the-world-hates-me state of mind and, obviously, I’m not too proud to admit it. We lost Allan, my dear father-in-law, in January and Grief just went ahead and moved in, took a very strong hold, hasn’t let go, and has affected pretty much every aspect of my life ever since: my relationships, my writing, my social life, and- of course- my running. Therefore, I can say (and have been saying and will continue to keep saying until it is no longer true) that 2015 has been The WORST Year Ever and I really, truly mean it.

I’m not writing this post for sympathy or for advice or as a passive aggressive attempt to reveal my true feelings (as I share my true feelings all the time, much to the delight/dismay of my friends and family)  but as an attempt to understand this whole grieving process and how it has directly affected my motivation and how, exactly, I’m going to work to steer myself back towards a “normal” path.

I want to laugh out loud at that word “normal”. I’m not sure I believe in “normal” anymore, there’s just stasis- brief moments of contentment wherein you’re on the right path, with the right people, doing the right thing- while everything else is just noise. Grief- just noise. Learning (or re-learning, in my case) to amplify the moments of stasis while turning the volume down on the rest of life’s noise is incredibly difficult but, thanks to running, I’m able to dedicate my miles to Allan, to this process, and to my “normal” self- I know she’s still in there somewhere!  Continue reading

Journey to 26.2, Part 3: The Reality

If you know me in real life or if you have read this blog for any period of time, you know that I aim to always be honest with myself. While I am elated that I finally overcame the 2014 Year of Injury and am back to successfully running the road, I know that I’m just not where I used to be nor where I need to be to tackle a full marathon right now. For these reasons, I decided to downgrade from the full to the half at this weekend’s SLO Marathon. I’m not at all bummed about this, however, I am happy that I am not allowing my ego to overrule good judgement and I know that I am making the right decision.

I started training for this full in January and got up to 16 miles, the longest distance I’ve run since training for my last marathon nearly 3 years ago.  The 16 was great!  I felt good, my injuries were just fine, it was slow (took just over 3 hours) but it was accomplished nevertheless- I was proud of my effort and ecstatic that I was mentally and physically able to finish a 16 mile run after all I went through, physically, last year. Totally planned on 18 miles the following week. I swear I did. The day-of-the-18 came and I just couldn’t wrap my head around 18 nor the impending 20 mile runs. I refused to give running all that time, I simply didn’t want to do it, so I didn’t. I ran 10 instead and thought, “Half marathons are awesome too, darn it.”  Continue reading

Today’s Reason: Allan Moir

Allan Moir, March 1939 – January 2015

My dear father-in-law, Allan, passed away last month and ever since then, things just really haven’t been the same. As my husband said ever so eloquently in his eulogy at Allan’s memorial, “Death is a bitch.” So true. It’s a tough topic for everyone and a fate we all must face eventually but to lose a beloved parent is especially difficult. This post, however, is not about me and my feelings toward this loss but about Allan- the man he was, the life he lived, and the legacy he left behind.

Allan was the kind of man who simply loved to love and loved to live. He had this way about him that made anyone he came in contact with feel comfortable and welcomed. Spending time with Allan was always easy and enjoyable- despite the illnesses and pain he had to endure over the years, he never complained, never got angry, just took things as they came and embraced life nevertheless with a smile on his face. Continue reading