And today is a day where I’m remembering exactly why.
Because I’m waiting. My grandma was rushed to the hospital early yesterday morning. So far all I know is they’ve found a blockage in her heart. So I’m waiting to find out what’s going to happen next. I hate days like this. They’ve come far too frequently in my family, yet they’re a reminder why I have to run.
After all, I really don’t remember what my dad looked like before doctors cut him open, giving him “railroad tracks” down his chest and legs.
But I do remember my dad and my grandma having to hold heart patient teddy bears to their chests the summer before my senior year of high school. Those bears were designed to help ease the pain of coughing after they had their ribs broken so their doctors could re-route their hearts with healthy veins.
I run because I finally met someone who makes me want a family of my own. Because I want to be well and blissful with him as long as I’m meant to be on this planet.
I run because my genetic makeup requires me to. Because it’s what keeps me sane. Because I feel liberated when I’m out there pounding the pavement. Because when my heart is pumping and I’m drenched in sweat, I feel healthy and happy.
Now please excuse me while I soak in the tub and anxiously wait for another call about my grandma.