Precious Days

I lost a person that I truly considered my friend this past week. She was in her early 60s and had been combating health issues for quite some time. Her heart and kidneys just could not take it any more. She died at home and was found by her daughter, her husband and their two small children. The oldest, a girl less than four years old commented: “Is Nana with Jesus now?” Her mother responded in the affirmative.

As I got up to run today, my mind went back to the passing of this dear lady. Although she was not able to run, she did live an active life—as active as you can lead when health is declining. She enjoyed her family, especially her two grandchildren. At the funeral, my friend who conducted the service commented in many different ways how much family meant to Sheryl. She had recorded her most memorable moments in a book for that purpose and passed it on to her only child, Heather. What a treasure that book has surely become. While it relates memories of early days at home, I am sure it also affirms her love for her family she now leaves behind.

We never know when this day will be our last. Death is not a respecter of persons. While the young seldom think about it—very little anyway—death will come to each of us. That makes each day worth so much. You never know when the last hug, or laugh, or sacred memory will occur. Take time to live life to the fullest, loving family, making memories and taking advantage of the day.

That is one reason I run: because it may be the last time I can get out and feel the ground racing under my feet as I tread on this earth. While it is easy to think I have many more runs in the future, I honestly do not know. And neither do you. When you feel like you would rather just stay in and not experience the exhilaration of the early morning, or the dawning of a new day, or the beautiful setting of the sun, remind yourself, “This could be the last run I take.” I ran this morning because I could. Lord willing, I will run many more mornings because I can. May I never forget what a privilege it is to move.

I will miss Sheryl and my thoughts and prayers go out to Heather and the family. But each run I take will be dedicated in a small way to her memory. She could not run here on earth, but I know she is running now. Take advantage of these precious days.

Thanks for sharing some of the road with me,
The 20-Minute Runner