Today was my sister Cathie’s birthday, so to celebrate her life I took a 12-mile run over the Chester Creek and Coastal Trail.
It was an overcast day and grey, temps hovering in the upper 30s, with a slight breeze that smelled of spring, even though spring is at least a month away. Still, that damp, cool breeze against my face felt so hopeful, so almost endearing, as if a testament that winter is almost over, that the snow will melt, the ground thaw. That the green will soon return.
I saw this right around the five mile mark, isn’t it odd? Christmas ornaments hanging unexpectedly from the trees, almost as if they were hanging from the heavens.
The trails are still snow covered, of course, though the footing is packed so that it’s similar to running on soft, squishy pavement.
One of the things I enjoyed about this run was that because my Garmin temporarily died, I wasn’t able to gauge my pace. It was refreshing; I hadn’t realized how tied I am to my electronic wristwatch. It’s almost scary, actually.
But mostly this run was a prayer to my sister, who died almost twelve years ago but still is remembered, still is missed. I love you, Cathie girl. Wish you could have read my novel, but maybe you have, somewhere. Maybe you are reading it now and laughing that low, sardonic laugh of yours. Hugs to you and Barney.
|Cathie and Barney, years ago|
Hope everyone has a chance to run in memory of someone they love. It makes every mile a little bit more intense, a little bit more bittersweet, a little bit more true.