One from the vault for Mother’s Day:
On Fridays I would take Momma out for supper. One Friday we ate at Pizza Hut where I could have spaghetti. She wondered why. It was because my first race, a 10K which I’d kept a secret, was on the next morning. Four days after her death, I had surgery, and, following recovery, trained for eight weeks and ran my first marathon.
Running began a new life for me. For her, life itself was a hard run. By coincidence, it ended as my new one was beginning. Endurance had threaded her days. She left it with me.
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