Updated: Mar 3
During our first meeting on January 31, 2023, less than three weeks after Aaron's passing,
I told my grief therapist that I was about to start Marathon training. I remembered saying to him that I wanted to test my limits by tiring out my body. He suggested that my underlying desire might be to get closer to Aaron. He was right. An idea had indeed flashed across my mind earlier that perhaps by running non-stop, I’d eventually land in the same universe as Aaron. Compared with being left behind in a world without Aaron, running towards him felt like an immensely more attractive idea.
It's been exactly a month since I started running 10K every other day. I was so good at enduring the stress and boredom of long-distance running that it has become even fun and energizing to run. Clearly, I am not running “towards” Aaron, but “with” Aaron. When I feel tired, I think of the pain that Aaron endured and become motivated to run more. When I reach beyond the point of exhaustion and after the run, I feel I could get through all devastating events in life. Never have I felt lonely running on the treadmill in the basement; instead I imagine Aaron as witness of my efforts, and feel him in my heart and in every part of my body. In the past month, the coaching voice on my running app informed me several times that I have broken my personal running record, first of 10k, then 10.5k, 11k, 11.5k, 12k… I never listen to podcasts or watch Netflix shows while running, because I want to concentrate my mind on body movement to prevent injury, and my heart on the running event that Aaron and I co-create.
Running with Aaron may be running towards healing.