This week, I’ve started reading Marshall Urich’s book titled “Running on Empty; An ultrarunner’s story of love, loss, and record-setting.” While the ultra-running community is cheering his legendary list of accolades, I am currently doing quite the opposite. I expect that my opinion will change as I get further along in his book — otherwise why would they even list love and loss in the title?
But I am NOT at that point in the book. I am only at the beginning of Chapter 2: Legacy. Up to this point, with each race Urich writes about, the widow and mother in me reads and judges his “accomplishment” as a failure rather than success.
Now I realize that everyone handles death differently, but I simply could not find understanding in how this guy moved forward with his life without looking back. Race after race, adventure after adventure, he did indeed set out to achieve more than was thought to be humanly possible. By the time Chapter 1, titled “As far as I can, As fast as I can,” was almost over I found myself getting angry.
Quietly, I cheered his 2nd wife for leaving him. Think what you want of me; that guy had no business getting married again, let alone having more kids. Not at that point in his life anyway. From his story — he was the one who wrote it, right — he wasn’t exactly playing husband OR father. Working to put money in the bank pays the bills but, in my opinion, it doesn’t even come close to fitting the bill (so to speak) of having a family. He left all of that responsibility to her. If that wasn’t enough, he married AND divorced again.
About the time I was really questioning if there was any hope for this guy, he shared a few honest words contrasting his “racked up list of accomplishments” with his “personal shortcomings” and noting the disconnect with the people in his life who loved him. Twenty years had passed since his wife’s death and, it seemed, that he was finally realizing how grief works. It will chase you down no matter how fast or far you go. You cannot run away from it.
I read on and wonder if and when this man’s story would describe him taking on what I perceive to be his biggest challenge: tackling the pain from the death of his 1st wife. I assume that he does eventually do this. I also suspect that his journey shifts from one of running *away* from the pain to running *with* the pain. I suppose I’ll have to continue reading to find out.
You may wonder why I even share this with book with you, seeing as how I haven’t neither formed a positive opinion of it or read the half of it. From the reviews I’ve read, I do believe this book has an inspiring story which you may want to check out.
The reason I share with you today is that reading this book has raised another, more personal, question for me. One that I hope those of you who have been with me for the past many years will weigh in on — with your most honest opinion.
Years ago, I searched high and low for people who were like me – in the depths of pain and despair – who were willing to put their story out there. Not only did I crave a stronger awareness that I was not alone in my grief, but I also wanted to know that there was a way through it.
What I wouldn’t have done to read Urich’s story, as well as the story I struggled with earlier this year. While they don’t delve deep into the painful reality in its fullest, they do nicely to describe how crippling it can be. After my husband’s death, I needed that. I wanted so badly to know that my brokenness was not uncommon. As I said before, I needed this. But I also needed at least a hint of hope that someday I would find a new normal that wasn’t didn’t involve driving to work every day in tears.
Similar to these books, I recently watched a movie about a man who ran the equivalent of 75 marathons in 75 consecutive days to raise awareness of the struggles of single-parent families following the death of his wife. Like the books, the movie portrayed the profound way that death changed his and his family’s life. When his mission was accomplished, and his grief journey (and that of his children) continued, he found solace in knowing that the sharing of his story brought comfort to many.
Which brings me back to the question at hand….
Is a reason for me finding these stories now, rather than 4 years ago when I wanted them so badly? I feel that there is so much more to say. Is someone sending me a message to reconsider sharing my own story of love and loss, or am I reading more into this than I should?
The last time I entertained this venture, I opted not to move forward as I felt that I was not far enough away from the pain to safely go through my grief entries to make my story book-worthy. I’m not even sure that I can make my story book-worth, or that there is even enough of an audience to justify the time.
What do you think?
The answer is easy and obvious I think; you are a writer. So the writing form of a book is the obvious next medium for you to compose, collect and communicate your thoughts. This is what you do. Write it for yourself 1st, and see if there is a greater audience? Cool.
Juls,
You know how I feel about your writing. I’ve told you many times. I’m not sure if you are being sent a message to write your story, but it really doesn’t matter, does it? I agree whole-heartedly with Vince. Write it for yourself first; if others read it, great. If not, it really doesn’t matter (unless the time commitment is problematic). And, who says you have to set a deadline on completing it. Take your time.
The way I see it (today anyway) is that I’ve already written what I’ve needed for my own healing. If I were to take the time to convert my writing pieces into a book of some sort, it would be for others.
Do it. If you feel it is time to put it all together. I’ve always felt that you writing could be a book.
Writing for a mass audience is very different than writing for yourself. Either path you choose will have its rewards because you’ll discover a little more about yourself in the process.