A promise kept

Early Sunday morning, I set out for a yearly event attended by many who come to walk and run in the memory of Jeff Coombs who died on September 11 aboard flight 11 when it crashed into one of the towers. I have known his widow, Christie, for a little over five years when we met through our grief counselor. She too is a mother of 3 just doing her best surviving and raising her children alone. Yet, unlike my own surviving, she adds to her life and credit the ability and drive to raise funds to help other grieving families.
I arrive amidst excited adults and children who enter the main doors of the elementary school to register and pick up a number to be worn on their shirts. In the past, I have always registered as a walker. Last year though I promised myself that this year I would be a runner. I'm nervous and excited to be trying something so new. I meet up with my friend Ellen and we stretch our legs still tight from a nights sleep. My friend outruns me at the beginning and I am alone running in this race amidst a sea of faces. Many pass me as we jog toward the first mile marker but I am not discouraged. I do need to walk now and then to slow my heart rate and catch my breath. I walk most of the hill during the second mile and as I pass the marker I'm told I 'click in at 24:06. 2 12 min miles..not to bad for a beginner! The third mile is the hardest for me as I am hot, sweaty and tired but I persevere and eventually make it back to the school entrance. I run to the finish line and am cheered on by strangers and my friend Ellen. I've made it and feel so proud that I didn't give up! I ran the race with a total time of 41:40 coming in 411 out of 433.

Today I sit and compare the road race to this 'race' I've been living since Tom died. I seem to be trying to find the 'finish line' to know that I am done grieving in some way and to have reached a place of the "new me" I've been waiting for. I know it isn't a cut and dry situation and while there are full days now that I laugh at life and what it brings me, there are also days where the pain of missing him is great and the tears flow with the slightest rememberance. Yet, like the race, I persevere and push through the days when I feel like I can't take one more step. I made a promise to him and to myself shortly after he died and that is a promise I intend to keep.