My Running Shirt

I started running, training for a marathon in September. There, I’ve said it.

What’s great about this marathon is it’s in Kauai, which is the same place I first found Vibram Five Fingers a year ago. I was in this posh shoe store there in Princeville and was drawn to these shoes. They were different, interesting, and I think the branding of them told me they were for adventurers – something I have always leaned toward. They were for people who like climbing rocks, running barefoot, running outside, running, running, running. I tried on a pair but didn’t buy them… running would be for later. I fantasized about these shoes for months and finally bought a pair on my birthday. I walked around in them for months (chasing after the kids – running, running – shopping, dishes, gardening, hanging out), and I realized how much I loved them. I also started researching in earnest the possibility of being a runner in these things, including reading the extraordinary book Born to Run. This book changed my life, changed my perspective, and completely rocked my world.

If you want to know what speaks to me it’s How People Are Meant to Do Something. How are people meant to run? Well, in the 70’s, two pretty smart guys from Nike started a movement. The movement was Your Body Isn’t Good Enough, You Need Supportive Shoes To Run, The More Support The Better. And people started responding to that need and have forked out billions and billions of dollars chasing the perfect supportive shoe because they thought/think their feet need help. And the injuries started happening and now people have the idea that running is inherently dangerous! If you look at the statistics on running-related injuries, you’re almost guaranteed to have an injury at some point if you take on the sport. And people just consider that to be normal and, in fact, they blame it on their bodies and run out to buy more supportive shoes.

Consider this: If you put your healthy arm in a cast (it’s so supportive!) after a period of time your arm muscles are going to become weak, your arm is just not going to be living up to its potential. It’s the same with our feet in running shoes – the muscles of the feet don’t get a chance to fully develop and naturally support our bodies.

So every morning I wake up at 5:30, drink some water, check my email and go off for a run in my Vibram Five Fingers (which is similar to being barefoot) or do pilates to strengthen my core. This has been going on for about 3 weeks, so it’s starting to become a (drumroll please) HABIT. My first run was .7 miles. My run yesterday was 4 miles. As my mother-in-law said, the journey of 1,000 miles begins with a single step.

This journey… seeing the shoes in Kauai, being attracted to (and blown away by) the book Born to Run (we are!), being at a place in my kids’ lives where they’re independent enough for me to take on a passion like this… this perfect storm has solidified. And part of the solidification is my realization that I need a place to put my grief and the shame that I feel.

Setting aside the shame for now, the grief is really the juicy bit. I’ve been wondering for a year now – what does a person do with overwhelming grief? How do I talk about the whether and diaper changing / nap needs with my cohousing friends? How can I feel like I *belong* with this overwhelming grief I feel? I’ll repeat what I’ve no doubt written before: I HAVE LOST TRACK OF THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIED IN MY FAMILY IN THE LAST 7 YEARS. Sometimes I’m not sure how to talk about that, but I want to somehow find a voice, an expression of it.

Having a sense of belonging, I’ve come to realize, is very important to me. And being someone who’s not normal in the sense of typical Americana, I either stand out or get ignored in a way that feels uncomfortable sometimes but empowering most times (I have values that I feel strongly about and that keeps me strong). Being in this place of grief has propelled me into feeling like I don’t belong, in spite of having ample resources I can call on.

I’m obsessed with Runner’s World magazine, and their December 2009 issue had an article about a woman grieving her friend’s death. She concluded the piece telling about a morning with heavy rain, matching her tears, she tied on her shoes and ran out, bracing herself against the weather and her sorrow, telling herself that the wet, the cold, the pain, the literal workout of her body was – and this is what grabs me and pulls me forward – that this running reminds her that she’s still alive.

I realized that I’m running for the children in my family who are dead. I imagine Liam running like Gianna (they’re the same age), the way Gianna forces her elbows back and forth when she runs, like a dedicated athlete in the context of serious play. I imagine Liam running after her and I remember that, in my self-obsessed way, I can do that for him.

I’m running for Aiden, who, unlike Liam, never had the opportunity to breathe on his own, let alone run. He would be walking now, playing with his sister, wearing little boy clothes, looking at little books his Aunt Caity would send him. I’m running for him.

And then there’s Andrei. He would have loved my obsession with running. He would have helped me figure out ways of training my muscles on “rest” days. And while he wouldn’t agree with my raw diet, perhaps, he would be cheering me on and celebrating with me. He was passionate about personal development and working out. I’m running for him, because I haven’t been able to put his death to any kind of rest. His death stands out as unimaginably painful… the kind of disbelief I can’t put my heart and head around yet. So he’s standing there next to the road, waving me on.

I got my tshirt in the mail today. It’s what I’ll wear to Kauai in September.