The grieving runner

My running view

As soon as 2 days after Charles’ suicide in June 2015, I went for my morning run.

Numb and shocked, carrying the weight of grief in every limb, I forged out on the trail to find relief.

Yes, I was a mess.

No I didn’t want to go.

But I did.

Good God this hurts.

It was how I had coped before he died and now it had to be how I coped after. Standing still, the grief would consume me. That first week, my running path buddies stopped and hugged me. I ached and I cried and carried my ugly, … Read more...