Run With Me

Today marks nine years. Nine years ago today, I crossed the finish line at the District Cross country meet in third place. I qualified for Regionals. I crossed that line with one thing in mind—to keep running. I wanted to run from the truth—that my best friend and brother died today.

I tried to train for regionals which would take place the following Saturday. But through casserole delivery, hugs from friends and family, the viewing, the funeral, and the numbness, my training lacked. I showed up to that race. I started. I made it a passed mile one. Then I stopped.

Life is like that race. We find out something that keeps us from the fight. Maybe we fall and just cry. Maybe we run the other direction, hoping that sharp cringe in the backs of our necks will just disappear. When faced with adversity no one blames you. It was circumstantial. You had no control over your lack of fight.

Nine years have passed since you left. But there is still a part of you that pushes me through life’s race. Don’t get me wrong, there have been plenty of times I wanted to give up this race. But for me to put others through the pain you did, on purpose, is selfish.

I know I’m not running this race alone. Maybe you’re not here, but there is a part of me that pretends you are; that you are watching, keeping me constantly in training. I often think, how would Gabe feel about that? You are there, capturing my splits along this race. And because you’re here I know that I can keep running, fighting, and aiming for victory.

Nearly a decade is gone. Life has passing by. But there is one thing I ask: Run with Me until I Fly with You.