Love THIS Run: There May Never Be Another One Like It
Yesterday morning I sat on the floor with my cross-country teammates. Just as we do everyday, we met at one end of the dirty basketball courts at my college. Students played loudly at the other end of the court, occasionally losing the ball in our direction, causing my teammates and I to duck our heads and roll our eyes. We strained to hear our coach talk over the dribbling of basketballs, careful not to miss what the day’s workout will be. Before he began talking I was wrapped up in my own thoughts. I was upset about having forgotten my water bottle. I also complained about my stomach hurting; I had eaten too much ice cream the night before (boo-hoo!). In my head I had already decided that today wasn’t going to be my best workout. Just as I was thinking this my coach made an announcement before giving us the day’s mileage.
He told us that two runners had passed away this week.
The problems on my mind no longer seemed relevant. These sudden tragedies have become an eye opener for many people in the running community, myself included. With the loss of Sarah Sumpter, a 25 year old who had been battling brain cancer for five years, and Cameron Bean a 28 year old who was struck by a car while out on a run, it seemed only appropriate to take a moment to recognize what a fleeting gift that my teammates and I had. I did not know these two people beyond the fact that they were runners. That was all I needed to stop and think about how privileged I am to be an athlete, and I thank them for the much-needed reminder.
In any sport it is easy to become discouraged at times. It is natural to focus on how many improvements we still have to make before we are at our best. Even though the news of Cameron and Sarah was something I never hoped to hear, I am grateful to them for sharing the same love of running that I feel. Through them, I am reminded that the community I am a part of is truly remarkable.
There is something special about sharing a smile with a passing runner and knowing they are probably having similar discussions in their head about loving/hating the run, while tracking their mileage and trying not to forget the route home all at the same time. With one little smirk you say to each other “I know I’m crazy for being out here, but I see you are too!” There will come a day when your run slows to a walk and you finally hang up your lucky sports bra and spikes for good. Then again, you may be one of those awesome 80-something-year-olds that still get a run in every morning (more power to you). It is my hope that this retirement or continuation with a life of running is a choice that you get to make for yourself. This is why I ask that today when you lace up your worn down sneakers, you smile. Never forget that you are lucky for every step you take, no matter how fast or slow it may be.
