Threat of World War III. Kobe dies. Coronavirus devastates humanity. Global lockdown. 3+ month Stay at Home order. Economy tanks. Businesses close. Countless black people are senselessly murdered by racists and police. Protests turn into riots. Societal upheaval. President threatens citizens. Twitter threatens President. First amendment uncertain. Basic human rights uncertain.
Fr. McNally always said: “Life is complicated, Love is not.”
Life is complicated.
Love is not.
I have to write a final exam essay for my Food in American History course. I chose to write about how industrialization of the food system has created separation between people and their food. We’re allowed to use our class notes and readings, but no outside sources.
Luckily, I take good notes and weaving in the key themes of the course will be seamless. Unfortunately, my notes are so good that I vividly remember every lecture, every discussion, and every emotion.
That means I’ve been remembering all those good classes on campus in January and February. And all the not-so-good ones from March to April. My note taking superpower has become my kryptonite, and this is essay, as the kids say, has me in my bag.
Spring of 2020 hasn’t been easy. Not for anybody. Surely one day we’ll look back and feel some emotions. Hopefully, though, we’ll be able to identify key themes and significant moments, both as a collective and as individuals.
Maybe we’ll see that this was just one bad paragraph in a powerful, meaningful essay. A paragraph that was hard to get through, but critical to the development of following section.
I’m sitting here in tears as I try to put words to this new reality…that I will never run track again. For 10 days I’ve been at a loss for words, unable to grasp that this part of my journey is over. I’ve tried to ignore it and avoid it but it’s eating me up. I have to face it and I have to cry. These tears aren’t only for the love of memories past but for the loss of those yet to come, the unwritten stories that will remain untold in Spring 2020.
I’ve had this feeling before and you have too—when a loved one passes away and you don’t get to say goodbye. I wasn’t done running. I had so many personal records left to break and so many workouts left to lead. I wasn’t done cheering for my teammates and being cheered by those who love me. I wasn’t done waking up at 5:30am to lift and explaining for the 100th time why I don’t drink chocolate milk. I wasn’t done, and it really hurts.
I didn’t get to have my teammates congratulate me after my last ever race, saying how amazing it was to see my transformation. I didn’t get to shake my coach’s hand before we got on the bus at my last meet, making sure he knew that I appreciated everything he’s done for me. I didn’t get to celebrate my 4 year career, one full of injury and upset and triumph and leadership. I didn’t get to, and I never will.
This will not get easier. It will be something I come to live with—the pain of loss. I don’t know where I will go from here, but I do know one thing. I know that what got me around Boston University’s magic carpet on January 25th wasn’t my desire to be a great runner…It was those guys in Crimson & Gray around the track who gave their best all day long and still had enough left to yell my name. It was Magee & Moscoe & Davies & Dave & Welde & Baumy & Seabass & Sauer & Josh & the rest. At was Mom & Dad & Camille & Adam & Rachel cheering me on at home. Watching and hearing the support in this video…that’s what matters. Not the time.
When I first started running, I ran for myself. That’s how most of us run. But then I got the greatest gift I’ve ever received: the chance to run for others, the chance to run for a team. My team. The best team that I’ve ever been a part of. I can’t name you all in this comment, but you know who you are. Thank you for making this worth it. Thank you for making this all worth it.
At the end of this video, Camille said: “This is probably so different for him too because now he’s not thinking about other people; he’s just running.”
My wish for all of you is that you come love something as much as I ‘ve come to love running. Thanks for reading.