This morning, instead of heading off to work, I drove in the opposite direction towards Monterey. My van was packed with everything that I needed for a long run and the couple of handfuls of ashes that have sat on top of my refrigerator for the past many months. It was a beautiful day as I drove past the agricultural area and into the fog of the Monterey County.
I got teary eyes a couple of times, but mostly I felt good. I realized that I’ve spent the majority of the past year feeling robbed that I never got a chance to say “good-bye” to Papa. The plan was to carry the ashes on the long run and possibly say good-bye to them if it felt right. I figured 8 miles out ought to do it.
As I got off the freeway in Pacific Grove, I saw runners immediately. I pulled into the parking lot and began my preparations. I asked a couple the directions to run towards 17 mile drive. When they found out I was running (not cycling) they said that I should park much closer. Of course I didn’t listen to them.
I began the run at a nice easy pace. I was willing to go 10 miles out if I needed to for the spot that felt right. I didn’t quite know what to expect. My fuel belt was loaded. I had my cell phone, my iPod, 2 GU gels, a snack bar, my epi-pen, and the keys to the van. In my hand was a large white container (1/3 full) of the ashes.