By the way, for those of you who also work in an office, the perfect office-coffee recipe may be 3 shots under the "espresso" setting, mixed with about 5 packets of sugar. I'm still tweaking it, though.
I ran in the Terry Fox Run on Saturday - a 5K for Cancer Research that takes place every year in Central Park. I've run a lot throughout the last few years, and generally try to run about 3-5 miles whenever I do, but this was the first time I had ever done an organized event. I think I'm hooked - I am already planning the next one, and plan to join the 100-mile bike ride for missing children next year. (http://www.rideformissingchildrengcd.org/)
My teammates - a few of my friends and co-workers - and I gathered outside the park at 8:30 Saturday morning in the 45 degrees, and ran in this quaint (just kidding), sky-scraper encircled park with thousands of people. It was far more uplifting than I thought it'd be, actually, not that I thought it would be negative in any way. A seriously positive vibe, and of course - for a great cause. For me, though, it was a landmark for personal reasons: I ran with my cousin Lynn in mind.
Lynn did not have cancer - he wasn't even sick. He wasn't running in the Terry Fox run (that I know of, anyway). He WAS, however, running in the Maritime Race Weekend in Halifax, NS, in a marathon that raised money to help people affected by drought in Rwanda. The group running for his cause was called "Run From Hunger." He'd even been given a write-up for this here: http://www.foodgrainsbank.ca/news/1936/nova_scotians_running_from_hunger.aspx
He'd been training for months for it, logging the miles he was running on facebook, when he passed away suddenly during a training run with a friend of his on September 2nd. This fact, and the adjustments within our family since, have changed my life forever. Truthfully, his loss still hasn't sunk in for any of us.
Most of my childhood was shaped around my time with my Erskine cousins. Ben, the oldest, was usually teasing me in some way while simultaneously cracking me up (this dynamic has not changed, by the way, even though he has a wife and kid(s - a second one on the way!). Allison and Kaia were my littler cousins, branching off with my little brother to create mischief of one kind or another. Then there was Lynn, who was so close to my older sister that they would create an alliance so strong it included a secret language I didn't speak. (I later found out they were speaking French and Spanish, combined). We would pile into the patio at our grandparents' house in rows of sleeping bags and keep each other up all night with scary stories and giggling. We spent Christmases together, vacationed on the beach together, and taught bible school together. (I will never hear a "veggie tales" song without thinking of Lynn, belting out "If you like to talk to tomaaatoooes -- " in front of a large congregation of kids in Delaware one summer). Who knows how we each look back on our lives - all I know is I consider them siblings.
Lynn, over the years, started to become someone I confided in. I never thought I'd say this, but thank God for Facebook for our ability to share pictures and stories with one another when he moved up to Canada. I got to see pictures from his wedding when I wasn't able to be there. When I had a crisis of faith (or several), I would write to him and beg for his insight. Usually, he'd write back an entire book about his thoughts on God, faith, life, with a unique and often hilarious point of view.
Naturally, when I started running, I'd follow his running progress too. We'd prop each other with "like"s and comments to each others' posts, and I couldn't wait till we would get to share in our experiences in person together. It was almost too painful to see all the pictures go up about The Run From Hunger, a couple weeks after his funeral, but I felt ready to connect with his memory on Saturday.
It all hit me harder than I anticipated after crossing the finish line - though I was happy and laughing with my friends, as I watched one runner after another cross under the balloons I thought about how much I wished I'd gotten the chance to see Lynn in action, or run with him myself. It was an overwhelming moment after a month and half of thinking of him every time I went out for a routine run each day, and missing him and his place in my life very much. (As well as feeling for his beautiful and strong wife and girls, and of course - my amazingly resilient cousins, Aunt and Uncle as they grieve his loss).
Maybe I will never run another mile without thinking of him, or even go another day without a thought to him, but I will always be grateful to him for his influence in my life - and so many, many others.
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| Amanda and me, celebrating our 5K success. We was runnannggg. |
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