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Posted Apr 26 2011 8:48pm

"The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea."
~Isak Dinesen

I have to apologize for such downer posts lately. They have been far from motivating, but I'd be lying to myself and disrespecting my readers if I posted something bubbly, sarcastic, and "go get 'em!" when that is far from this temporary reality of mine. There was a fleeting moment where I worried about that, but at the end of the day, the ups, the downs... I am who I am and this blog is what it is.  

The past 48 hours have been filled with emotion, so much emotion. It is swirling around in my heart and my head, itching to come out, but I just don't know that I have the right words. I contemplated not even blogging about any of it, because I don't want, nor deserve any sympathy, for today my heart aches not for myself, but for others.   The love of my life lost his best friend of 17 years on Sunday.  A tragic ending that should have never happened, but at the same time, I'm not sure there was much more anyone could have done to prevent it.  I pray that he has found the peace he so desperately sought while here on earth. 

I've felt the heartache of losing a friend or family member, but I am finding it equally as hard, if not harder, to watch someone you love with all of your heart lose someone close to them, especially in such a tragic way.  We all grieve in our own time. It's a process, as so many people keep reminding me, a process that our heart guides.  And it is so, so hard to sit by and watch someone you love go through that process. I wish I could take away the pain. I wish I could take on the burden of grieving for him.  Heck, I wish I even knew what to say. I feel like I'm not doing/saying enough.  I feel like I'm doing too much.  I feel like I should shut my mouth.   I'm not easily made speechless, but ... I feel speechless.   Which brings us full circle, because quite frankly, there is nothing I CAN do, other than exude love and support.  Grief is a process, and this one is not mine to bear.

But this recognition that there is nothing I can do to "fix" this in my typical mama-bear fashion has left me with a feeling I've never felt before.  So much raw emotion bouncing around inside that my heart, my head, my body...that I feel numb.  It's  a combination of anger, sadness, empathy, and acceptance and comfort in my own faith in God, knowing that while this may hurt and make no sense at all to us right now (or ever), He has a plan for each and every one of us.

And so I do what I know how to do best. I run. I've discovered what treadmills are perfect for: the moments you want to completely zone out from the entire world.  No need to worry about traffic or dogs or potholes in the road.  Where you can focus simply on the physical pain, as it tears down the wall of numbness and lets the raw emotions out. Moments where you can focus on nothing but the aching in your legs, your lungs, your heart...where the dripping sweat and gasping for air remind you of how amazing, and glorious and tragically short life really is.  And then the feelings you feel are yours and yours alone, you can't hide them or ignore them  or suppress them when you run.  Running makes you vulnerable, and perhaps, in a world where I tend to hold all of my emotions in...that's why I feel so compelled to run.

And in the end, I feel relief. Partially due to the instant remedy of catecholamines & endorphins, partially due to the forced acknowledgement of how I'm REALLY feeling.   And thus, once again, I'm absolutely convinced half of the worlds problems would be solved if we would just take 30 minutes out of each day and run our hearts out...

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