First Steps

February 5, 2014

Two days ago, a snowday was called for most of Connecticut.

Today was truly a gift, it was the perfect moment, soft flakes, temperatures holding steady in the 30s      I took advantage of the moment and slept until 8:00am.  Even though I am well into my thirties, I still get as excited as my children for a snowday! Time to drink my entire cup of coffee, no rush out the door for work and school, waffles, board games, hot chocolate, popcorn, movies, wine, and homemade soup simmering in the crock pot all day!

 Snowflakes, especially these soft gentle snowflakes, are a comfort to me.  The day after Aidan died, I woke up and a swirl of snowflakes spun happily in my back yard as I looked out my window wondering and hurting.  Aidan was four when he died just after new years in 2009 from complications related to his premature birth and congenital heart defect. I knew it was him because shortly before his passing, he told me when he goes to Heaven, he wants to be the angel to pour out the snow, his spin from a country song, Pour out the Rain. I treasured every moment he was in my life and today I am grateful that I can look back and smile through tears with thanks for the four years he enriched my life

I could not wait to get my sneakers on.  Running in the snow is invigorating.   My son Carter was joining me today and we took off, our feet rhythmically striding across the soft padding of the snow.  The flakes hit our face, the cold soft wet drops, waking up our spirits as we ran.  We ran up to the beach and ran along the water’s edge.  A truly breathtaking moment, I am so glad I could share with my son.  As my fingers began to grow cold, I thought back to the day of the marathon, the morning was cold but within an hour or so of getting going, I began to strip away my layers as my body warmed up under the beaming sun.  What a fantastic thing; to physically strip away the layers.  I mentally began to strip away the layers I had acquired over the last few months, guilt, stripped, anger, stripped, envy, stripped, loneliness, stripped, inadequacy, stripped.  As I stripped away my layers, I became lighter on my feet, moving swiftly and steadily forward through the snow.  Maybe we all need to make a practice of stripping away the layers so we can move forward and discover our own rhythms. 

I stopped twice to take a picture of Carter against the spectacular New England back drop we were running through.  I think it was my way to just stop and appreciate the moment.    We turned a corner and for the first time there were footprints of someone who had run this part of the road before us.  At first I made a game of matching my stride to my predecessor, it soon became awkward and difficult to maintain his stride.  I realized, it was not what was intended for me.  I had my own journey today and every day.  How often do we look around us to gauge what or who or where we should be in life?  What if we could just trust our stride, even if it is different, faster, slower, longer, shorter than everyone else?  Can we simply accept the journey designed, mapped, and laid out specifically for us?  I learned in running the marathon to own my miles, my moments, and to not give them away so easily.  But today I learned it’s not just the marathon miles and moments that I own, its all the miles and moments on the non-race days I need to treasure on the journey mapped out and designed for me.

I need to continue running in my own stride, stripping the layers that weigh me down and no longer have a purpose in my life, so that I continue my journey towards a beautiful future and life in exactly the right rhythm and time.

We turned the final turn to head home, “Sprint it out!” I yelled back to Carter.  Then I saw him pass me for the first time on the run, his arms pumping, his legs like long poles leaping with ease.  I worked hard to keep up with him on the Sprint up the street, but my heart was laughing as I realized all my dreams were just ahead of me and I let it be that way, for today.