There’s great inner healing powers to running

When your world gets turned upside down in seconds, you need something to get you through. Having wonderful family and friends who you can chat to are paramount but one needs something else, something unique for themselves, something to take them away, to take them to another place, to a space, a form of escapism.

When you have wonderful children, a husband, a mother, a brother, such a close extended family and my Dad’s amazing friends, and they’re all completely heartbroken, in shock, so, so upset, they need you now more than ever, and of course I need them all too. But right now I’m okay, I’m strong; I know some days I’ll be weak but then they will be strong for me.

Running brings me to that place that allows me to park the sadness, the grief, the anger, the questions, the hurt. It allows me to smile at the happy times, it allows me to start feeling good, it makes me look forward to the day ahead with the loved ones around us, because I have to. Our children have suffered enough, they need happiness, my husband has lost a true friend, my mam has lost a sole mate, all my family needs to be able to turn to me – and so they always can.

Running pumps me with feel good endorphins that I know I would not otherwise have. It gives me the strength to build on each day, to remember the good times, to grieve when the sad thoughts enter, to share the stories and thoughts with friends, but most of all it gives some ‘me time’ because in times of grief, it’s hard to find a space, it’s hard to breathe, it’s hard to sleep. But running makes one tired and so one can sleep, and it works up a hunger, it allows one to breathe deeply, it allows one to be mindful and so very thankful for all one has. Most of all it makes me feel good because that can be hard to find in a world that gets turned upside down.

The days after my Dad’s passing a few weeks ago, I run alone each morning, I cry, I grieve, I park it all down the road, up the road, across the road, in the middle of the road. It’s like I’m pounding my anger down through the stones; with each step more is realised, I can feel my shoulders relaxing, the tears roll down my face, the breeze is blowing them back, back away from this world and into another world, all that’s now behind me. My heart rate is increasing, the grief being expelled through my arms and legs, the sweat pumping the bad energy out of my body. The breath is inhaling fresh, new air and I feel a cleansing; I am healing. I begin to feel a new energy, the hills that once seemed cruel are now easy, the miles that once seemed long are now short, the pace that once seemed tough is now faster because right now nothing seems tough; not compared to what my family has gone through these past few days; not compared to watching our kids cry with such upset wanting to see their grandad, their hearts broken; not compared to that pain my Dad got on his last evening at home. I get a new strength, a power, I run faster than ever but it seems easy. My Dad is here, I don’t know where but somewhere, he is powering me through.

Each morning, I return home, the kids waiting at the gate, waiting for breakfast to be served, the chores needing to be done. The strength continues. When friends call, they too being so upset, the strength continues. My Dad was tough out, he was a worker, a farmer, an athlete, a goer, a dancer, a footballer, a character and many other things. He could leap over barriers, he had a determination and a strength to keep going and I believe he still is, in a different kind of way. His strength is definitely keeping me going. I have full intentions of keeping going as best I can.

The week is nearing an end and my wonderful running friends decide it’s time to take me out, for a stroll, a rant, a coffee and for them to mind me for a morning. I don’t need to be asked twice. I replan the house and head off. Clonbur Parkrun it is; trees, woods, shelter, rain, friendship, chats. We begin to do a warm-up, we jog, we chat, we offload. This feels good. We talk about the past week, everyone shares their stories, their feelings, we meet others, the rain stops, the sun shines, life continues, time flies by, the miles pass and one feels good. We return to the start, I look around, Dad’s first cousins turn up, the group gets bigger, I explain things could go one way or the other, one could blow up or take off.

The whistle goes, I run beside two friends, a fast pace but it feels good. I push on and what was supposed to be a stroll turns into a faster adventure, the downhills I fly down, the uphills the lads push up, we catch each other, we pass each other, the talk has stopped, the push is on. I do not look at the watch, I run on how I feel. I feel the strength and so I work off it. I smile, I think of good times, the friends check in, I’m good. As I run through the woods I think of Dad. I think of his way, his bowlegged walk, his smart sayings (no matter how many times you heard them, you’d laugh again and again because there was a saying for each situation), his stories that only he could tell because there was always a humour, his advice that sometimes you didn’t want to hear but that you thanked him for years later. I see my friend wipe their forehead, the other breathing heavily says half a mile to go.

I hadn’t noticed the miles, I was in another place, a place of peace, comfort, tranquillity. We’re heading for a fast time, we push on, we turn the corner, my friend takes off, I follow behind, I smile from ear to ear – a PB for this course and I didn’t even notice. The mind was in another place today, it could have gone either way, but with the support from friends, one on each shoulder, the body had no reason to complain. What was supposed to be a stroll ended up a fun challenge together but against the battles in one’s head too: life or death, health or illness, happy or sad, good energy or bad. What was supposed to be a chat ended up being a journey, a path that has been travelled many times but each time it’s different, sometimes alone, sometimes together, sometimes happy sometimes sad, sometimes easy and sometimes hard, sometimes final. But today something has given me this strength and I know it’s Dad. I see his athletic body, still looking as fit as he was when playing football; he always said “age didn’t matter, you could either do it or you couldn’t.” 

I absolutely admire from the bottom of my heart anyone who lives through a tough time. It is so, so hard, so, so draining, but every day we learn so much more. So far I think time does help, I think we need to be so kind to ourselves, we need to do what we enjoy, what makes us feel good, we need to share lots of time with loved ones, and to make the time, because life is short, in seconds it can change.

Whatever your ‘me time’ is, find it and do it because it will help; it will make you stronger, you will feel the energy, it will empower you but most of all you will look forward to the next day because it is easier look forward than look back. Brighter days have to come, the sun will shine, we must have hope, our loved ones need us.

To everyone out there suffering, there is strength in unity. Talk to people, cry, laugh, grieve, let out the anger because these are all real emotions. These are all normal, our deeply missed loved ones that have passed want us to keep their memories alive, want us to share stories with their friends and want us to continue. I do believe there is a light, sometimes it shines, sometimes it dims, sometimes it’s bright, sometimes it’s dark, but most of all it’s there. I feel it. For now, I’m okay, I’m strong. Tomorrow I’ll run alone but I know I’ve family and friends to bring me, to mind me, and most of all I have someone powering me through. I know this strength will always be there because it was powerful, empowering and inspirational. My Dad will always be with me.