In Yesterday's post, I told you the heartbreaking and angering story of Sherry Arnold. The wife, mother, teacher, runner that disappeared in a morning run. Making us all remember that we are so very vulnerable as runners out there. Casting a certain ugliness into the sport.
Today, I want to bring some life and light into the ugliness that has to be acknowledged.
Sherry's cousin, a blogger I've been following for quite some time and have come to love, Shut Up and Run is announcing the 2nd annual virtual Run for Sherry. Happening on 2/9/13, it's a run to simply remember. To ensure that running is not a fading sport. To ensure that in the midst of tragedy, runners will run on. We may be scared out there, but we are not going to allow the bad to overcome the goodness only fellow runners can understand.
Without this sport, so many of us would never ever know our true potential. We would see other runners and be in awe of what they can do. Never understanding that the race or event we see is only about a tenth of the battle. The training, the time away from home, the aches, the pains, the missing toenails, the embarrassing occurrences...all of it remains to be seen to so many.
We would never know just how far we can push ourselves. We would never know just how much our bodies could do. We would never know just how strong we really are.
Runners are a breed of their own. I've come to acknowledge that over the past year. Rain, snow, thunder, hills, flood, Hurricane Sandy...it seems nothing can keep them down. The determination, the dedication, the will power to simply keep going is amazing. Whether or not I can be included in that breed, I have yet to determine. At times the title seems too great, as though I've not yet earned it. Other times, I take the title easily. I think it's truly an honor to be considered a runner.
I recently was with my training group out on a long winding trail near the river in my town. It's a popular spot for runners, walkers and bikers. As I'm still one of the slowest, I found myself far behind most of the group, not another trainee, coach or mentor in sight. Though my 'mates' were not there to encourage me, I was shocked at how many clearly experienced runners went by me telling me 'You look great.' 'You are doing it'. 'Good for you' ....Each and everyone I wondered "do I know you?"
No, I don't. They don't know me either. But it didn't matter. They saw me, obviously not having an easy go at it. They see that I'm a 'round runner' and they know how hard it is. Let's face it, even being the fit, thin, athletes they are, likely it's still hard for them too. Encouragement from stranger after stranger after stranger. It made me glow with pride, love and peace.
Where else in the world could I ever get that kind of support from perfect strangers?
I can't think of anywhere else, in any other situation.
It's reasons like this we need to run for Sherry. Print out the bib. Wear it with pride. It's possible, when you run on Saturday, someone might stop and ask you who she she is. Share her story. The fact that you run for a perfect stranger might touch them in a way that will bring some light to the world. It's possible someone else will be wearing the same bib. A common connection bringing strangers together. In the wake of such sad tragedy, it's up to us remaining to bring on the light.
On Saturday, my training group reaches a harrowing 7 miles. Further than I've ever gone before. While I'm scared, I also know I can do what I can do. My potential is what comes out here. One day I won't be able to do any of it. Saturday is not that day. Saturday, I run for you Sherry.
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