On Running, Mountains, and Mom

Running.  The word has always struck fear in my heart.  Suicides at basketball practice.  Squares at soccer practice.  Even cart paths during golf practice.  I've never, ever been good at it.  I could run all season long with my teammates and never attain the same stamina that they could.  Looking back, it probably had something to do with my as-yet-undiagnosed asthma.  And a little psychosomatism, too.  I willed myself to suck.  And I thought those kids who ran cross-country were plain out of their minds.

And then my mom died.  I enjoyed running for the first time in my life that summer and fall, so much so that I ran on the treadmill when the weather was bad (and if there's anything worse than running, it's running in place...)  Perhaps "enjoyed" is the wrong verb here.  I immersed myself in running.  Like never before, I was able to fight through the stomach cramps and the burning muscles.  The physical act was certainly symbolic of my mindset at the time.  Run away from this nightmare as fast as you can.  Don't let anything get in your way.  Things became even easier when I found something to run towards as well - the 5K run/walk being planned in memory of my mom.  And so I, who had peaked at the age of 9 with an 8-minute mile, willed myself to run 3.1 miles.  In 4 months, I'd managed to do it, even going so far as to conquer the mountainous Washington Duke Trail.  The day after my mom's 5K, I stopped.

I ran again yesterday for the first time, nearly 2 years after my mom's passing.  Jose and I are training for Japan, or more specifically, the climbing-Mt.-Fuji part of our journey to Japan.  Attempting such a feat would probably just be stupid after having considered bowling as the extent of our physical activity all winter.  And I want to get to the top of that mountain.  1) It's a volcano, and climbing a volcano is definitely on my bucket list. 2) It's the tallest mountain in Japan. 3) The sunrise over the Land of the Rising Sun is our reward upon hitting the peak.  I realized yesterday, however, how hard it is for me to run again.  I almost broke down in tears halfway through the run when it hit me that this was the first time I'd run for something other than my mom.  The something other than my mom is the problem.  As badly as I want to conquer Fuji, the mountain can't even compare to my mother.  Maybe it's my brain chemistry.  Or maybe I've just lost all semblance of motivation in the 2 years since she's been gone.  But whatever it is, these runs around Boston Common have become one of the more difficult endeavors of my life (and not just because my thighs are so heavy today that I can barely sit down).  That's good, though.  I need to learn how to fight again.  And thankfully, I've got Jose by my side (or, more accurately, several steps ahead of me) in his ridiculous red running shoes, singing his own version of "Party Like a Rock Star" ("Body Like a Rock Star...") and intermittently yelling "BEER!" back to me as motivation.  At least it's a scene my mother would undoubtedly appreciate...