Love Letters from Heather

Dear Karen,

I have thrown up in your car, I have puked in your toilet, I have vomited at your parents’ house, and I have even lost my cookies in the bushes when you lived in Innisfil. Unfortunately, I was neither ill nor drunk.

“I run alone” was probably the first complete sentence I ever said to you. I apologize that I was so standoff-ish. I take a while to warm up. Lucky for me you weren’t dreadfully put off by me.

I don’t know how I ended up doing long runs with the run-club breakout group consisting of Denise, Lyndsay, you, and me, but I thank the gods that I did! What an unexpected gift of women who would end up being some of the most influential people in my life!

Training was pure joy! We would plan everything in our lives around long runs (except the birth of children—apparently, Lyndsay and Denise didn’t get that memo!). Thank you, Karen, for all the times you picked me up, drove me to runs, planned our itinerary, mapped out the schedule! I don’t think I ever truly expressed how much I appreciated this.

It turns out that running isn’t really about…running. It is moving meditation; it is about forging friendships; it is a vehicle to push limits—it was also a unique blend of church, psychotherapy, and physical torture all rolled up into one. The amount of discussing, unloading, venting, problem solving, and laughing that occurred on the first half of a long run is too much to remember or count. But it happened. Every. Single. Time.

Then, the earbuds went in, and the second half of the run was spent in relative silence, allowing our minds to process and assimilate what we had just discussed.

And secrets were shared. Deep, scary, and sometimes dark secrets. Thank you for holding the space for me.

The friendship quickly extended well beyond the sphere of running. I am so proud of your courage and resilience. You left a very secure job (and more!) and pursued your passion and dream. Although it ended up being a chapter and not the whole book, it was the right thing for you to do. And I can always count on you to do the right thing!

You are one of the few friends I have who will actually call me on my crap. I don’t know how you are able to do it, but you can (and have) lovingly let me know when I am (or was) headed in a direction contrary to my authentic self. I think it is your honesty, not just with me but with yourself, that allows you to be so good at this. That and years of managerial experience.

You have been through quite a bit in the last few years: changes heaped on top of changes. But instead of letting these shifts bury you, you climbed atop of them, seeking the best possible version of yourself.

I loved when you came up and stayed with us once a week for work long after you moved away! I absorbed our conversations and walks like the dry sponge I had become.

I can still envision the day you moved from Innisfil. My mind has constructed a bird’s-eye view of that scene, me sitting on the porch in your front yard, watching you drive away. My eyes still sting when I think about it.

I know you were only moving an hour or so away, but it didn’t matter. I got used to you being just down the road. Now the tables are turned, and I am moving more than an hour or so away, and I will miss knowing you are nearby. You are the very definition of a good friend. I can count on you, no matter what. And although I will make new friends where I am going, they won’t be you.

I am not even sure how many medals we accumulated in our two years of relentless running! Whether it was a 10K race or a full marathon, you faced both races and life the same way: giving it your absolute best.

When I raced hard, I would throw up. It was a side effect of possibly not understanding athletic nutrition or simply over-exerting myself. Who knows? But if I needed to find my limits, I am grateful it was you by my side…a true testament to your friendship was putting up with my weak stomach!

You pushed me in running, and you pushed me in life. Your running “word” was fearless. And you epitomize the very essence of it.

You are smart; you are driven; you are beautiful; you are caring. But most of all, you are a once-in-a-lifetime friend, and I love you very much!

Heather

PS. There is no one greater who I would stand guard for at the side of a ditch.

PSS. In our next lifetime, remember, let’s not take “the Road to Hope.”

~

Love Letters from Heather is a series. Please click on my profile to read others or check out some below!

To my son, Jason

To my middle daughter, Candice

To my daughter, Charity