In honor of this momentous occasion I would like to share an experience I had the other day during my run. I hadn't gone running since Jack and I ran the Love the Run You're With 5K in sub-zero temps over three weeks ago. I decided I needed to get my butt in gear and start pounding the pavement again, especially since my sister and I will be sludging three miles through mud and other crazy stuff in about a month and a half. (RunAMuck anyone?)
I dropped the kids off at piano lessons, drove around the corner to park the car and took off. It was a cold, breezy afternoon with ominous dark clouds looming in the distance. I started off at a nice slow pace (oh, who am I kidding - my NORMAL pace), excited to try out my new iPod for the first time.
My excitement soon turned to frustration as my iPod kept turning off in the middle of a song. I had to keep stopping and fiddling with the stupid thing until I finally realized that the earphone jack hadn't been pushed in all the way. I also found myself getting winded fairly quickly and had to stop and walk every few minutes, especially when going uphill. I guess that's what happens when you run once every three weeks.
I finally decided just to relax and enjoy the fresh air and commended myself on getting moving instead of sitting in the car and reading or checking email like I usually do during piano lessons. I passed a man walking a bassett hound and smoking a cigar (the man, not the dog). I hummed along to Madonna and Johnny Cash and tried to ignore the aching in my hips, knees, back - oh, let's face it - everywhere. I passed the cigar man and the bassett hound again.
Then it began to snow. I looked up in wonderment as tiny little snowflakes fluttered down from the heavens. I was reminded of the afternoon of my dad's funeral, when the nasty freezing rain that had been falling all day suddenly turned to snow. All the kids in the house shrieked with glee and ran outside, joyfully spinning and catching snowflakes on their tongues. My first thought had been "Tato sent the snow." The last ten minutes of my run were filled with thoughts of my Tato as I enjoyed the unexpected flurry.
Then my back gave out. I felt the tell-tale sharp twinge in my lower spine that told me my nemesis had decided to show itself again. I slowed to a walk and decided to take it easy for the rest of the way. I passed my car and headed back up the street where I'd started out. At that moment one of Tato's favorite songs "People are Crazy" began to play on my iPod. As my back began to twinge a little more I raised my arms up to the dark sky and thought fervently "Show me a sign, any sign, that you're here right now. Give me something, anything . . ."
Then I turned my head slightly and glance at the house on my right. I noticed that there was a decorative flag hanging out front and did a double take as I realized the flag had piano keys and musical notes dancing across the blue background. No way, I thought. What are the odds that I would ask Tato for a sign and immediately see a piano? Coincidence, just a coincidence, right? I walked to the end of the block and turned around to head back to my car.
"Ok," I thought. "Show me another sign." I was feeling slightly crazed by now and as my eyes flitted across my surroundings they landed on a mailbox right in front of me that had a huge letter "L" drawn on the side in cursive. "L" as in the first letter of my family's last name, Tato's very unique Lithuanian last name. No, no, no - another coincidence I thought as I tried to convince myself that I was jumping to conclusions.
At this point my iPod had skipped to random play since my running mix had ended and the very next song that started singing in my ears was "Return to Me" by Dean Martin, another of my dad's favorites. What a beautiful song - take a listen and tell me this would not completely reduce you to tears at this point . . .
So as I listened to this lovely song I managed to pass my car again, not yet ready to end this most unusual run/walk, whatever you want to call it. My back was aching even more but I could not stop walking, I had to keep going. Lo and behold, what did I see next? A statue of a white cat sitting on the front lawn of the house on the left, a white cat that strangely resembled my parents' white cat Iggy who passed away last summer. Three signs in a row - a piano-themed flag, the letter "L" and a fat, white cat. I must be losing my mind, I thought.
As I thought some more, I realized something. These signs were here all along. Earlier in my run, when I'd been distracted by my malfunctioning iPod, I'd passed all three of these things and had not noticed them. It was only when I was consciously looking for signs of my dad's presence that I suddenly became aware of them. Perhaps the signs are all around us, all the time, but it's only when we are open to receiving these signs that we actually see them. I decided I wasn't going crazy after all. I'd merely opened up my mind to the world around me.
When Tato first was diagnosed with ALS, he wrote some profound statements about how he was feeling about life in general. One of the things he said was "I see things more clearly now." In a way I feel like his outlook on life and his appreciation for it in these last two years helped me to see things more clearly too. It makes me want to open my eyes and look around and see what's really there.
Here's to the next one hundred blog posts and to discovering new possibilities. I can't wait to see what's around the next corner.
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