Running With Mom

Last October I decided to start running 5k races every month in honor of my mother, Betsy McEnroe. She passed away December 24th 2008 from heart and lung disease. The event of her death was traumatic, but it is not what I want to remember when I think of my mother. Working to get beyond that traumatic event has been, well, work. As with those that have lost close loved ones, my grief lives and breathes when it wants to, not when I choose it to. Luckily, running has become my certain, cherished time with my mother.

In the months after her death I resorted to the pavement every single morning. What I discovered while running was the incredible power of my mother’s memory in nature. Outside was the place my mother was happiest. Every tree to her was a creature that deserved attention and admiration. So many of the afternoons/ summers of my childhood were spent outside with my mother exploring, learning and getting dirty. Many walks and adventures led us to encyclopedias and books in the evening poring over additional information about the things we observed. Spring and summer we spent helping Mom prepare her garden. I’ll never forget my mother standing over a giant bull snake in the middle of the road to save it from cars zooming by so my science teacher could come catch and release it safely somewhere else. Consequently, the most beautiful memories I have of my mother are those that remind me of her utter fascination and love of life itself. Naturally, running outside yields many opportunities to be with her through nature.

For months while running I would cry. By the way, crying while running is an interesting sensation and one I’ve gotten very used to. My tear filled running spats normally were triggered by something so beautiful in nature that I would hear the voice of my mother in her quirky way asking about what type of plant I had jogged passed or a tree that I know she would have adored in her singular way. One morning very early, I witnessed the twilight of the morning sunrise over a very rare empty lot in LA covered in green clover. The light lit this field in such an incredibly beautiful way that I had to catch my breath. After doing so, I asked out loud, “I wonder if Mom is here to see this?” Immediately after I asked, a car alarm went off right next to me. I looked around to see what could have triggered it, but found not one soul, human or otherwise. I truly believe that was Mom and only hope that one day I can confirm that.

Beyond feeling her admiration of the natural beauty that surrounds me, I simply hear her clearest when I am running. I am free to go down memory lane with the rhythm of my breath and feet guiding me. When I struggle with an issue I give it up to thought while running and inevitably I hear Mom telling me to listen to my heart. But mostly, the stresses of my everyday life vanish and I can devote my heart to listening to her tell me that she is with me. She is with me in every moment I recognize the beauty of a tree or a wave in the ocean or the courage of a friend. Her ability to admire and love all life that surrounded her, is what lives in me. This took me a year to realize through the sanctuary of running, within which I hear my mother’s voice. The next time you see someone running, please know, they may not just be concerned about their figure, they may be attending church.