Meg’s Miles

This past monday Meg Menzies was hit and killed by a drunk driver. She was a mom, a runner and a Boston qualifier. She was doing what she did. She ran. Monday was her last run. I guess you could say she died doing what she loved, as so many have expressed online. How fucking tragic. There is no making that any better even if you do try. Doesn’t matter if she was in the midst of a blissful run or a gut churning tough one, her life still ended way too soon. When she left her house that morning I can guess she was not thinking about getting run over. It was probably more likely she was focused on the workout and the upcoming marathon. I set out today to do my weekly long run with Meg very much on my mind. At each point when my run was less than terrific, somewhere in the 12 mile range I brought her to mind. I could run. I was still here on this glorious January day. I thought about life and choices. I pondered how I took for granted every breath I got to take and how so many didn’t have that luxury. I guess you could say I had a crystal clear moment of clarity amidst all the hellish emotions I have experienced over the past few days. I don’t have an answer for why my point of view shifted so drastically. Maybe it was Meg. Her story and her tragic end. Maybe it was just a shift that would have come anyway. Whatever it was I’ll take it. It was a gift to travel those 14 miles today on my two feet. It gave me time and distance to reflect and to settle back into a more mindful state. I shrugged off the smothering near hysteria and panic that held me in its grip. I may not have any answers but at least I am contemplating a way out like I was. I guess a long run can truly be good for the soul.


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