I do most of my writing on a plane, at 30,000 feet, flying across the U.S. It’s the only time I can get 2-3 hours of uninterrupted, quiet time. I’m at peace up here in the friendly skies and can allow myself to reflect, contemplate, and meditate on my life. This is my space and we all must find our space, that place we can go to disconnect from life and allow ourselves to think.
It’s surreal to greet family, colleagues and friends as they line up to pay their respects to my family. I peer over my shoulder and stare at my sister’s lifeless body and try to imagine a life without her in it. I shrug off the emotions welling up in my gut and turn to face the long line of people waiting to speak to my family and console us over my sister’s death.
I’ve had the pleasure of working with my 11-year-old son, Ryan, on his running. I started running with him two years ago, when we ventured out on a four-mile run. He cried before we finished. He cried several times the first year we started to run together. It was obvious he had talent and it became apparent to me that his body could process the lactic acid efficiently in his legs and that his lungs could oxygenate is body effectively; however, he struggled with processing the pain associated with distance running. He would get to a point, during the run, where it began to hurt and he would panic and exasperate the situation.
My family recently watched the movie, Unbreakable. It’s a story of a mild-mannered security guard, David Dunn, played by Bruce Willis, discovering his purpose as a super human. The beginning of the movie shows David living an unhappy existence. He’s estranged from his wife, contemplates moving out and abandoning his family, and even attempts to approach another married woman for a possible affair. Essentially, he’s lost in his own world.