My Mascot for the 10K

I've got to admit, I've been a bundle of tears the last few days. Though I knew I'd likely lose an old friend, I still held out hope for a miracle, and was unprepared for her departure. If I had to play a morbid game on what friend I would lose first in my life, I would never have chosen Amanda. She was so strong, so vibrant. Yet she is gone.

I had wanted to run in her honor this year, and was an emotional wreck Friday worried about making her proud. I wanted a way to express it, but didn't want to be gooey - she would hate that. So I made a simple tee, complete with some childhood memories - a copy of her signature from high school, symbols she'd sign off with. It was therapeutic in a way, allowing time to go through our old notes and photos and letting myself feel the loss of an old friend.

I made it through the 10k, intact with no tears. In fact, I clocked in at 1:11:43, a personal best, shaving 10 minutes off of my time last year. Much of that is thanks to my running mate, Tanya, who brought out my competitive streak and kept me going. The majority of it was because of my mascot, an angel-winged zombie warrior, who flew ahead of me in my mind, egging me through the race, making me keep my word on running in her honor. I just couldn't let her down.

I thought I may be emotional when I passed Amanda's family, waving at her husband and blowing kisses to her son. Instead it gave me a renewed energy, and helped me to push even harder, and I found slight relief from the heavy grief in my heart. Several times I had cold shivers, and would imagine it was her way of telling me she was with me. The visualizations worked and pushed me to perform to the best of my abilities.

I kept tears at bay all day until later, when I wanted to tell someone about my time. And I realized the only person I wanted to tell was no longer with us.