Today, after working and training, for 12 weeks, I ran an entire half marathon, without walking, at all.
I ran with a friend, who has been a friend since before Mitch passed, but we only became close, after he passed.
Her fiancé, also Mitch’s old neighbor, was there, cheering us at the finish line, along with a couple of other friends.
I was in awe of us. I could not believe we ran the whole thing. We had some problems that started around mile 11, but we pushed, and we made it!
At the finish line, we were being called out by name, by a friend who took over the DJ Mic, and was having fun with it.
But we accomplished something pretty awesome, today.
One year ago, today, I could not run a mile without stopping, to walk. Hell, 6 months ago, I couldn’t run more than a mile without walking!
So, today, when we managed 13.1 miles, without walking, I was so full of pride for both of us, Tina and me, that I didn’t really know how to express it.
Once it was time to wrap things up and we took all of our table down and left, I sat in my car, for about 20 minutes before I drove away.
I thought about Mitch. I imagined how he would have reacted, had he been at the finish line, today. I imagined he would have been very much like the husband that drove to different spots, and recorded and took pictures of his wife, through the entire race. I cried. I cried hard, and for a while.
I was overjoyed that I accomplished this feat, that I never imagined possible, and so overwhelmed with sadness, that he wasn’t here, physically, to catch me at the finish line.
He would have been so insanely impressed! He would have posted something onto social media about how “amazing” I was, because I did something so crazy.
I raced all last season, and only really thought about that a couple of times. He didn’t like watching at the obstacle races, because tics and bugs, but every time I did a 5k, he was there, cheering and taking photos, and being an amazing husband. How lucky was I?
Today, as amazing as it was, was pretty rough on my emotions.
I will survive.
I will become stronger.
I will keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I will continue to remember him, and speak his name. I will never let him be forgotten.