As I laced up my sneakers, I had already set my intention for a slow run. Slow, like I could probably walk faster than I was running, but that’s the exact pace I wanted this day.
The weather was grey, cool and just about perfect conditions. Paying attention to my breath I actually felt myself smiling a little which, quite honestly, doesn’t happen a lot during my runs. But today wasn’t about breaking any PR’s, or doing intervals or training of any sort. This run, this was in honor of someone. Something that came about from a complete tragedy in someone’s life.
And, someone I personally am honored to know.
As I came out of my neighborhood and onto the main road, it was wide open space. No traffic ahead of me, just me, my thoughts and the pounding of my heart as I made it through the first 1/2 mile just daydreaming about my friend and all she had been through.
Glancing ahead I started to see it getting busier. The first big dump truck about to turn on the main road and a few cars behind him. I watched my footing as I switched to the grassy area by the side of the road and was about to go through some tall grass and even taller weeds, and that’s when I began to feel and see the symbolism in all of it.
Weeds now up around my knees and the ground really unstable I just tried to keep my focus on my next step, my breath, and I tried not to look ahead. I slowed my pace because without even realizing it my pace had picked up and my breath was now choppy and labored, and had to refocus to my original intention.
Thinking of my friend.
That was my intention.
Three, four, five trucks go by in a row and the wind they throw off as they go by is now pushing me sideways as I kept bracing myself to stay steady.
“She was just going along that morning, enjoying her life.” Bringing my focus back to my friend.
The wind coming off the trucks made me wonder about the feeling of the wind being knocked out of us. When you can’t catch your breath and maybe it’s almost impossible to breath, and maybe even for a second we think we’re dying. “She must have felt that way” I thought to myself as I made the turn to the backside of the neighborhood. Sighting ahead a little, I noticed the mud puddles coming up on the side of the road and dodged them as I went by and immediately thought “The mud, she must have been feeling as if she was walking through thick mud and she couldn’t dodge it, she somehow had to keep going.”
As I hit the second mile I was completely engrossed in my daydream or maybe I was praying for her. For her, her family, and I was even daydreaming about her husband and wondered what kind of man he was and guessed he was probably a real charmer, probably handsome, and maybe with a good sense of humor. My thoughts going deeper as I passed by a family grilling out for Sunday football. I barely looked up at them as I heard them laughing and chatting as their kids played together. The smell from the grill was making me nauseas, and their laughter was, well quite honestly, at this point of the run, annoying me. I didn’t find it fun or entertaining, I was actually being the opposite of neighborly, as I was in my own little push, and wanted to keep thinking about my friend. I imagined how hearing people laughing, or seeing family’s gathered together could have been unappealing to her, maybe even made her nasueas for a time, as I began to push through the uncomfortable running thoughts of “just stop, stop right here” because I also imagined she must have had days she just wanted to stop in hopes the discomfort would pass. But that kind of discomfort doesn’t pass quickly.
As I turned the final corner to my house and hit the 2.5 mile mark small yellow dandelions caught my attention as they were coming up inbetween the cracks of the pavement where it met the grass. The push that weed had to break through to display a pretty yellow flower for us. “One flower there, and oh gosh, ok one up there and a few over there” and all of a sudden I began noticing more wild flowers coming up in and around them and then surprised and relieved by the cool, refreshing breeze that struck my face as I made the turn.
Again, my thoughts right to my friend…
“Maybe this is how she felt after a while. After a long while maybe.”
Far longer than my symbolic 5k I was running.
Maybe one day, all of a sudden, maybe she too saw a small flower appear, or felt a cool breeze wash over her and maybe for the first time she felt herself smile almost involuntary. Maybe it took her by surprise when something made her laugh again for the first time. Or even feel her heart soften or maybe even open again. “Maybe it was year three?” I thought, as I was just about to hit the the 3 mile mark.
But I bet it took longer then that.
With just a 10th of a mile to finish. I didn’t calculate it right, so at the end I had to do that thing where I ran past my house and then did circles in front of it until I finished. And even then I thought “Maybe she had days of feeling like this. Like she was running in circles as she continued to try to keep going every day.”
As I began the cool down, I teared up a little.
Maybe she tried to pace herself, maybe she tried to steady her footing, manage her breathing, and tried to be methodical. Or maybe it was simply by the grace of God that she kept going after the hijacking of United Airlines Flight 93 on September 11, 2001 when her husband, and First Officer, LeRoy Homer Jr.’s plane crashed near Shanksville, Pennsylvania leaving no survivors. One beautiful sunny morning where the life they had built disintegrated in one unexpected, unimaginable, horrific unforeseen tragic event. A young happily married couple, both healthy, with a toddler and beginning their family.
I thought about all of that during my first virtual 5k experience. As well as the first 5k event ever for the Leroy Homer Jr. Foundation she established in honor of her late husband. A foundation that provides financial support and encouragement to young people, who have an interest in aviation, to pursue professional flight instruction that certifies them as a private pilot.
She created an entire foundation, out of a tragedy.
She kept going even when I can imagine she didn’t want to.
She kept pushing.
She kept putting one foot in front of the other.
How symbolic this entire 5K felt to me.
Just holding intentions or prayers for someone while you’re doing something. If you have never done this, I encourage you to. Anytime you’re doing something difficult, or for the first time, or scared to do. If you do the thing, whatever it is, holding an intention, or praying for, or even dedicating it in your heart to someone, it brings on a whole different meaning.
So, go take a walk and just think about someone and give thanks for them being in your life the entire walk. Thank them, hold space for them, pray for them, feel gratitude for them because I’m certain they’ve contributed in someway of forming you into the amazing person that you are today, just by inspiring you.
Side Note: Melonie Homer you didn’t know I was writing any of this about you and you don’t even know how special you are to me. Thank you for being in my life and encouraging me just by leading by example.
Special Note: If you’re reading this and are interested in learning more about the foundation or know someone who does visit http://www.leroyhomer.org
#neverforget
DevineTime 