The Runner

If you know me, then you will not be surprised that on an early autumn day a year and a half ago, healing from a c-section scar, I noticed a runner and at first I mourned.

I'm not particularly fit, but I love running. It is a banya for my soul. Each step, each mile has me beating my soles like birch twigs in a sweat house. I am cleansed as toxins housed deep in my heart and head are brought forth and released through tiny pores, flushed down the drain by a refreshing post-run shower. My heart rate regulates, my temper calms, and I can be more the person I wanted to be.

Once I could do it, running became a part of my self-prescribed therapy and a reference point for how far I'd come after being thrust into the life of difficult-to-digest emotions, the life of parenting a severely premature baby.

So look back with me, will you? See a glimpse of the runner that I saw as I drove into the NICU that warm September day. The story has been posted in two parts.
Part one
Part two

In the end the moment reminded me that even when you feel you're treading an unknown and lonely path, often there are footprints of those that went before you, if you take a second glance.

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The full story can be found on differentdream.com. A warm thank you Jolene and the rest of the crew at differentdream.com for wanting to include my story on their blog for parents of special needs children.