Moving Beyond Loss: Can a Step Forward Ease Our Pain?
PLUS: An entry from my diary back in 2018.
Dear Mom, 3/17/18
Happy St. Patrick’s Day! Not that we ever celebrated it. I am feeling a bit festive because guess what...I ran a 4-mile race this morning! Uncle Chris, Aunt Stephy, Alex and I got up and did an 8 AM Shamrock race. I ran the whole thing! Ya girl still got it :) It felt really good… It was such an adrenaline rush... This weekend has been a blast! I can’t wait to show you pictures and my race metal! I also have done a good job of managing my anxiety today. You would have been proud. I love you, Mom! Talk to you tomorrow.
An entry from my diary I had for my mother to read after she healed.
My first run race, a 4-miler, coincided with one of the most significant moments of my life - the weekend my mom passed away.
At a North Carolina Shamrock Run, surrounded by my beloved aunt, uncle, and cousins, I experienced an adrenaline rush unlike any other.
The finish line was a symbol of triumph, a testament to the strength I didn't know I had.
It was exhilarating. I'd never felt so alive, so powerful… yet little did I know that running was soon to become much more than just a hobby.
In the aftermath of my mom's death, I found myself leaning on the movement in running and it slowly became my solace.
I found myself asking, "Why?" over and over. Why was I doing this? Why am I putting myself through this structure and muscle ache?
How did running become such a cornerstone in my life?
The ever-flowing answer lies in the introspection that running afforded me.
Those solitary hours spent on open roads, accompanied solely by the synchrony of my breath and heartbeat, evolved into my sanctuary. Even as tears blended with sweat, this physical pilgrimage emerged as a steadfast ally, guiding me through a journey of self-discovery.
Running and the solitary nature of mourning might seem disparate, but they share an intimate kinship. Both are solitary expeditions, realms of introspection and revelation.
Let me draw the parallels for you.
Running Alone - (ALWAYS WITH SAFETY PRECAUTIONS!)
When you embark on a run by yourself, you're invited to mute the world's cacophony to take notice of your soul's whispers. It can morph into a refuge, allowing our innermost thoughts to surface with clarity. Each step is an emotional release, a chance to unravel tangled feelings—similar to the grieving process, which prompts us to forge a personal path through our loss.
Challenge: Embrace Silence on the Move
This week, whether you're embarking on a run, taking a walk, or even commuting, I challenge you to turn off the external noise. Set aside your music, pause the podcasts, and let audiobooks wait. Spend this time in silence with yourself.
Can you sit with your thoughts, observe the world around you unfiltered, and find peace in the quiet?
(If you try this, please comment below and let me know what you experienced! :)
Solitude in Grief
Grieving is a deeply personal journey. When we lose someone dear, we face a unique void that others, despite their best intentions, can't completely understand. Their comforting words, while well-meant, might not resonate with our emotional state. This solitary phase of grief can foster introspective reflection, helping us grapple with our emotions and navigate our feelings.
Self-discovery through Movement
When we run alone, the pavement becomes a mirror reflecting our inner strength and resilience. Every stride, every breath we take, becomes a testament of our self-discovery.
Similarly, the solitude in grief paves the way for self-reflection, enabling us to comprehend the depth of our resilience.
It's not about outpacing grief, but rather making room for growth amidst the pain, as we find our rhythm, our own pace. Both running and grieving are beacons of our endurance, reminders of our vitality.
Discovering Resilience
In the throes of grief, hope can feel like a distant whisper. Yet, it is in the rhythmic cadence of a simple forward motion, where we might glimpse that elusive spark of hope again.
Each determined step, each mile conquered, is a declaration of our inner fortitude. The journey mirrors the phases of grief—confronting anguish, pushing beyond uncertainties, and ultimately, coming out more resilient.
And indeed, there's something to be said about those endorphins! 🤣
Running has indeed not erased the profound ache of my loss, but it's etched a path towards healing, towards fortitude and hope. It is where I find the strength to face a marathon—the epitome of resilience.
CHALLENGE FOR YOU: Writing prompt
What is your sanctuary? How can you find your step forward in easing your pain?
Answer these questions in your journal and see what rises to the surface.
As you tread through your struggles, let the solitude be a spark for self-discovery, a symbol of your endurance. Embrace that, though the journey may feel solitary, you are never truly alone.