Getting lost on a run isn't new to me.

But I've never been more lost than I have in the runs I've taken this week.

On Sunday, May 22, I was awakened at 3 am by my Mom. As I sleepily wandered down the stairs, she said the words that I've been afraid of hearing for several years-- "Andrea's dead."

My sister had been found unresponsive. Diagnosed with diabetes when she was in high school, my sister has struggled to take control of her health. Her blood sugar has been as out of control as her lifestyle habits. She chose her path through life like I choose my running route-- the longer and more technical the better, and off-road any chance I get.

After hours of sitting, staring silently and blankly, talking and wondering, speculating and drinking too much coffee, I had to move. I urged my mom to get some rest, not just for me, but so that I could run. But I didn't find that familiar release. As my heart pounded blood through my body and breath through my lungs, I felt too alive. So alive that it hurt. And I cried. And I ran. And I stopped. And I sobbed.

And I tried again the next day. It was hard to stop. It is hard to stop. Maybe if I run far enough or hard enough, I will be able to breathe again.

I spoke at her funeral, wanting to tell our friends and family, her sons especially, that addiction had trapped her and taken over her body, her life, her once fun and carefree personality. Here are my words.


  1. As someone who's brother battles his own demons through self medication and addiction..I feel your pain and I too await that day that he loses his battle and will. Thank you for sharing through your pain.

    1. We aren't alone. So many people are affected by addiction.


Post a Comment

Popular Posts