10/11/2014
The night’s rest was uneasy. I could not stop thinking about one of my best friends. He was such a kind and caring person and he had a huge heart. Unfortunately that heart of his could beat no more. His baritone voice sounded in my head as I tried to get some sleep for the upcoming day’s run. It would be a shorter run compared to the miles of an average day but, it would be tough.
The difficulty of the run didn’t come from terrain, distance, or weather. Instead the difficulty came from the range of emotions surging through my soul. It is strange how tragedy can trigger an onslaught of senses. The memory of a time passed becomes so visceral, so real, it is as if you are there.
My body felt fine. The first mile of the day was to the New Mexico/Texas border. The mindset was that I would remember my friend as I covered every mile of the day. The first mile was the memory of our first meeting. We had many mutual friends and they always said we needed to meet each other. That was almost twenty years ago. I met a guy who had a large personality. So I thought that crossing into Texas, where everything is big, was fitting to remember a person bigger than life. It was surprising to me that even though both of us had big ideas, we never clashed. In life we are lucky if we find people that can lift us higher that we could climb ourselves. I think we did that for each other.
After the sign, I ran straight and I ran steady. I ran to remember all the good times. I remembered two youngsters making their way through life. I also remembered hardship and how we helped each other during those times. I was sorry I couldn’t help this time. My running has often given me comfort in times of grief and pain. It has been a way for the body to match the intensity of emotion. The point of relief is when all has been exhausted and the body has been returned to an empty state. I thought to myself, “It would be nice if my friend could feel that sensation of release.” I thought that maybe wherever he is now he feels just that.
Of course the day wasn’t that easy. My lack of sleep gave my body a reason to rebel after seventeen miles. I could see Mexico on my right. On the top of a mountain was a big cross. It was called Mount Christo Rey. The mountain of Christ the King. It was a beacon of beauty in an area known for brutality, corruption, and poverty. I pushed on. I pushed through the fatigue with memories of the times my friend made me laugh. I pushed on when I thought about how, when I adopted a son, he too adopted my son.
Towards the end of the route, I remembered some of our last conversations. He had told me how proud he was of the things I was doing. He said he had wanted a change in his life as well.
I finished running in Downtown El Paso. I stumbled onto a once a year event called chalk the block. I saw lots of kids running around, drawing on the sidewalks and walls, dancing, and playing. I thought about how he expressed the desire to have a family of his own. What he didn’t realize was that he had a huge extended family. The night grew dark as it does every night but I’d like to think that after the darkness there is always light. I’ll miss you down here brother.
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