Genesis

I started running consistently four years ago.  There was a lot going on in my world four years ago, but of all the things that went on in that time period, the one event that changed me more than any other event or factor was the death of my cousin, Amber Kathleen Cremeens.  I am sure there are many people in my world and just adjacent to it who would say the same thing.  It was re-defining, that moment in time.  It caused an entire shift and recalibration in my focus and my intentions on the planet.  

It was 2009.  

I didn't know really what to do with the confusion, the grief, the unnameable emotions that were circulating inside, so I ran out the door.  Literally.  I opened the door and started running.  Running away from home at first.  Running away from the realities of life.  Running to exhaustion and rearrangement, so I could just be different, feel different, see different than when I started.  

I signed up for my first race that year -- a half marathon.  I remember registering -- late registration, the night before the race -- sobbing.  Poor registration guy probably still has PTSD from dealing with me.  I was pretty convinced I couldn't do it, but desperately needed to try.  I'd never even run 13.1 miles before.  I went straight from sobbing registration to uncontrollable digestive disorder all night long.  Who was I kidding?  There was NO WAY I could run 13.1. 

The next day, though, still with horrible stomach upset and still crying, I started running.  And almost 2.5 hours later, I was done.  And crying.  

Within four weeks, I'd signed up for a full marathon.  But this time, I knew I'd need some help.  So I called for some.  What came to me was this: 

  
It was a little charm of my cousin Amber's that had been worn by a friend of hers in the Boston Marathon and then sent on to me for me to wear in the LA Marathon.  I wore it like a vestment -- it seemed sacred, powerful, energized.  And as I cried -- again (really sobbed, I have to tell the truth) before the start of the marathon, its presence around my neck gave me comfort and strength, like a sacrament.  And it carried me through all 26.2.

But it wasn't mine to keep and I knew that and there were more people who needed it for their running odysseys.  I wore it for a while after that race and one day when I did, a friend (APH, I'm talking to you) approached and told me she owned a machine that made those exact charms.  She was kind enough to come let me make (a few) look-alike(s).  Then I finally felt free to let the original go...I had one or two made in its image.  I would be okay.  

So I sent the original on.  I've seen it in pictures around other people's necks as it has carried them along their running ventures.  I'm so happy to know it lives on.

Cut to 2013.  This year, for my 40th birthday present to myself, I signed up for a 50K.  And again, I knew I'd need some help to carry me through.  So the day before I left for the race, I dismantled a few perfectly good necklaces to make a new necklace for my look-alike charm.  It was great!  The perfect length.  Great materials.  Good clasp in the back.  I wore it from the minute I finished it until....

...well, I'm not quite sure.  All I know is it started the race with me, and it may have finished the race with me, but I have no recollection.  I can't remember taking it off or putting it in my bags.  I can't remember seeing it or feeling it except for once along my way.  

And so me, the penny finding runner...the girl who cries before races and sometimes after...who's lucky enough to find angels on the trails or at the race starts...well, I seem to have lost an angel out there, too, among the beauty of the foothills.  I'm not sure how to feel about it.  I do keep searching.  I don't feel done with that charm yet, but maybe I'm wrong.  Maybe she carried me as far as she could, and the rest is up to me.  Maybe it was time for her to be free.  Maybe it was time for me to let her go.  Or as my friend said, maybe, just maybe, it was an appropriate resting place.  Finally.