Monday, February 8, 2010

Grief Therapy

In my little group of running women, we have now buried four of our loved ones.  It started when my dad fell while riding his bike in El Tour de Phoenix in 2008.  Then it was a Sister, a Dad, and last week, another Dad.  This is not a fun club to be in.

But surprisingly, what we all have looked forward to during our personal struggles is the morning run.  Half the year we run in the dark.  It's cold and early and the only ones out on the streets are us the paper boys.  We meet at that time because we are Moms.  If it was 8:30 am or 5:30 pm there would be soccer, or dentist appointments, or kids still at home.

So we meet.  And run.  And talk.

When my father died, my favorite thing to do was go out on long bike rides. I could cry deep sobs and no one would hear.  The tears would roll down my cheeks and then get dried by the wind.  And when the group circled up I would pull it together and everything would be a little better.

The difference on a run is that you get to talk it out.  These girlfriends did not say "Let me know if there is anything I can do" and not mean it.  Meals would magically end up on my dinner table.  Beautiful flowers arrived at the mortuary.  And nobody cared if I stopped to cry during the run.

The interesting thing when something tragic happens to you, is that you know exactly how to help someone else when it happens to them.  Besides the meals, our runner who lost her dad last week needed someone to swing by her house to get her to the track.  She needed to run.  And she needed to talk.

I don't know if there are studies done on running therapy.  But for our group of women, it's what got us through the days the weeks and the years.

A run, a friend, an excuse to cry.  We're all gonna be just fine.


  1. We follow your blog. We would like to invite you to be a part our Swim Coach Finder Facebook Group

  2. You summed it up perfectly. I share those same sentiments.


Que lindo es sonar despierto.
How lovely it is to dream while you are awake.

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