The End of an Era

Living gratefully today, I say thank you to the Universe for two legs to run on, good running shoes in my Brooks Ariel model, and all that I have learned and let go of as I have moved a stride and a mile at a time over thousands of miles. 

I started running when I was 12 or 13. It has contributed to my overall wellness in so many ways since then. At times, it was the only healthy thing I was doing. 

I started running marathons when I was 39, when Darcy and I, my sister Ruth, and my niece Katie and her husband Danny ran the Chicago Marathon on October 10, 2004. I kept running them until marathon #17, the Sioux Falls Marathon, on September 8, 2019.

There is a rich and joy-filled journey I took on each of these 17 marathons. There was joy in just getting to the starting line in Chicago. Joy as I passed each mile marker. Joy as I saw the 26-mile marker and rounded the corner, tears in my eyes, to the sight of that first finish line.

The joy was buried under grief as I took to the starting line in Sioux Falls in 2019. It was just a few months since my sister Mary Jo had died. I was weighed down by the symptoms of midlife and menopause. I was pretty sure it would be my last marathon.

It was a tough run, but I made it. I made it to the finish line of each of the 17. Darcy was right next to me at that finish line for three of them. 

I have continued to run, but at reduced mileage. I have some arthritis in my left hip and beginning osteopenia in both. And I have a dream to be one of those grizzled runners, still maintaining some muscle tone, doing a couple miles a few times a week when I am in my seventies. To reach that goal, I need to be wise in my approach. 

With the pandemic in full force last year, I wouldn't have done a marathon anyway. There were none, and a virtual one isn't the same. So as I went for a run in Sioux Falls this past Saturday and Sunday, and also drove past the finish line area for the first Sioux Falls Marathon we did in 2011, I think it finally hit me. 

The grief that is. The grieving in giving up marathons. Even if for the right reasons. The loss of the annual goal and date on the calendar. The loss of the rush felt after completing a 4-hour training run. The realization and sadness that come with some aspects of aging. 

It was grief that was waiting to be felt. It had just been held up by other more pressing grief. 

The end of an era. My marathon era. It ran from 2004-2019 and it was a good run. So many good runs. 

There's more to say and more runs to be taken. More on that tomorrow. It was helpful for me to hold and look at the medals I earned for these two marathons. Tangible reminders that the joy of running and finishing surpasses the grief that there will be no more marathon medals added to the collection.

Here they are: