It has been almost 11 months since I last wrote in this blog.
I don't know where the year went. I don't remember where all the tears and laughs went. I know what happened in the last year. I know that I didn't move to California. I know that I let my legs heal while planning for the next race. I went from being a girlfriend to being alone. I know I stopped being a suit-wearing Research Analyst, and became a closing manager at a climbing gym and a shoe expert at a running store. I know I gained and simultaneously lost a close friend to the fray of exs. I know the summer was long and hot and I was homeless for some of it. I know that I finally resolved an issue that has been hurting me for 3 years and fixed a friendship. I know that I became a stronger runner, a stronger climber, and a better cross-fitter. I know that I experienced hurt and sadness. I know I discovered new levels of joy. I drifted away from someone people and closer to others. I know I drifted too far from my family. I know I was selfish and stupid. I made mistakes and I apologized for them. I know I was also selfless and full of love. I put my heart out there only to have it broken horribly time and time again. I know that I was an outcast for a little while. I know I climbing beautiful rock and I ran beautiful trails. I know my feet took my far and wide over the last 11 months. I know it all happened, but I barely remember it now. It flew by. And now I am here.
Here. Here is surreal. I am sitting in a hospital in New York because my father is having emergency open heart surgery. The man who helped build me, my dad. Last night as he lie in the bed sleeping, I couldn't bear to close my eyes. I felt the need to protect his spirit by staying awake and by his side. This isn't other people. This is my dad. My dad. The champion of fitness and being healthy, of getting out there and doing things. My dad who taught me to climb, play basketball, and trust my gut. My dad, who taught me to fight for what I believe and be a good person. My dad. The strongest person I know, lying in a bed because his family history and high cholesterol decided to work against him. I know in six months when he is all healed up and we are climbing up in the Gunks together, I'll say, 'Wow, I don't know where the time went.' But right now, waiting for the nurses to come out and tell me I can see him, it seems like each minute is an eternity. My dad. This isn't something I ever thought I would have to do. I am the health care proxy for this surgery. I am in charge of handling whatever news they give me about my dad. Me. I am twenty six and I barely have lived my life. This is my dad. And I have to be strong now.
When they do open heart surgery, they take the heart out of the body and essentially turn it off so they can do the by-passes. Then they put it back in and it restarts. This blog is about my feet and how far they take me, and right now my feet and my heart are in New York with my dad. I can't do anything else right now except wait and write. So from here on out I am going to commit to writing here regularly again. I am going to restart the heart of this blog the way my father's heart will restart and give him new life. I know there will be complications and more trials we will go through, but this is a promise. I will keep the important things important in my life.
So here I am starting at day zero, again. I am at the bottom of the climb. I am at the mouth of the trail. I am the beginning. New life moving forward from here. Just like my dad.
Here's to tomorrow, happy trails friends.
Emm
P.s. - Literally as I finished writing this, they called and told me my dad made it through and the surgery was successful. I'm going down to see him now. Thank you for your love and support.
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