on running and living

Today I think of Bren. A month ago my 42-year-old cousin was admitted to the Medical Intensive Care Unit at the University of New Mexico Hospital, the only Level I Trauma Center in the state. What brought him there doesn’t matter so much as the person he was––incredibly brilliant, loving, funny, steadfast. I was grateful to make it to Albuquerque in time to be with him before he left for the Great Unknown on the winter solstice.

It seems like just yesterday we were in Chinle, staying up all night as we prepared for the Wellness Center dedication––February 15^th, 2001 was the highlight of tenure with the Indian Health Service. We transported things across town all night; large plants tipped over in the back of our pickups. Running out of time, he helped me get every last detail ready inside the new facility. I tasked him with hanging inspirational Stephen Covey quotes, within framed photos. “I hate Covey” he told me, pounding nails into the wall. We laughed so hard. I cannot find a single picture of him from that event, but I can see him standing at the back of the crowd. I cherish the cassette recordings he made for me that day, capturing speeches of those I admired, from a time that will never come again.

He was especially gifted with computers, fell in love with oceanography, and always said it like it was. We were so different but somehow became very good friends, sharing quite a bit over the years. While we lived there at different times, we were both fond of New Orleans and hung out together in the Big Easy more than once.

Tipitina's, spring 2011

Being older, I had known Bren his entire life. One thinks there will always be another run with your “little” cousins. Then life throws a monkey wrench into your plans.

Taos, summer 2012

I’ve taken a hiatus from this blog. My photos and stats are outdated. In recent years friends have asked if I still lived in town––all because I didn’t show up for races I had done countless times. Instead, I have been nurturing a grant writing business I launched in 2017 and exploring facets of life that I used to never have time for.

I've been traveling the world, fostering a creative project that’s important to me, and making strides toward other life aspirations. I also like to lazily watch Netflix from the couch. Most importantly, I try to be there for those who need me. 

It turns out my cousin dealt very privately with a disease that he largely faced alone. He didn’t tell his best friend about it, nor others close to him. Despite this and numerous obstacles that seemed to gravitate toward him, he had a tremendous career and lived life on his own terms.

I’m left with a reminder to be authentic, to stay true to my own path. My cousin did this very well. My suspicion that our time here is finite was recently affirmed.

As my great friend Paul pointed out to me years ago, some of us are not going to make an Olympic team. There is value in maintaining a healthy perspective in running, and life. I primarily run to cultivate health these days, for the pure joy of it––all of those intangible benefits we know are real. 

If I ever find time to train properly again, I will show up prepared for a race. It would be fun to be faster than the average bear. And to beat Rob Hall once more.

I celebrate everyone who is out there squeezing the very best out of their bodies, achieving peak fitness and chasing their dreams. It feels awesome. That said, I enjoy running so much more when I take time for these other life aspects, as they make me who I truly am, too. 

I no longer feel a need to prove to anyone how strong or fast I am, nor that I am somehow a lesser person because I am not running as much as I used to––this has been very liberating. Yes, I have slowed down. I am also "still" single and have more and more grey hairs appearing (which I will soon have to stop pulling out). Yet I feel complete, amazingly blessed, and fortunate to be nearing another birthday. 

There are so many experiences to welcome, and responsibilities to tend to that transcend running. Running will always be part of me––no matter how many miles I log or races I run. When one looks back upon the life of a loved one, it brings clarity. 

Life takes us on journeys we don’t anticipate.  

Flagstaff, summer 2015