A Runner’s Heart

Out there, between miles, blisters, sweat, suffering… and glory, we talk to God.

My breath stank, my ass felt heavy… and I hated the image the mirror spat back at me.

I had started smoking again. I was depressed. And every time I thought I had hit rock bottom, I somehow managed to dig an even deeper hole.

I needed a medal.

Time has flown… It’s been ten years since that January when I decided to run. Back then, even a mile was way out of my reach.

Little by little I’ve been reclaiming myself, climbing out of the gutter. And even though I sometimes slip in and out of it, running has been my salvation. Meditation, prayer, escape.

Over thousands of miles I’ve found kindred souls. People who have walked — and run — beside me along the way.

Edwing López, my cameraman when I arrived in Washington DC, was one of them.

We laughed a lot. We got lost a thousand times. We ended up in neighborhoods that were probably not the best idea… and he was always filming.

I will never again have videos like the ones he captured of our runs.

We ran in hotel gyms, in cities we traveled to, and around the monuments of Washington at dawn. We ran together… through life.

Cancer took Edwing from us. I lost him on January 12.

Next Saturday I will run the Rock and Roll Half Marathon in Washington DC in his honor. I’ve also been raising funds by registering through St. Jude, helping search for a cure for childhood cancer.

For years now I’ve been working on a book about running. But this isn’t that book. This is just one piece of it: my miles with Edwing.

What united us most… was our runner’s heart.

Out on the road, we confessed our lives to each other and shared everything — from the latest gossip to our most ridiculous dreams.

And we talked about our runner mantras, the ones that eventually become a kind of personal constitution:

Run the mile you’re in.
Miles and smiles.
When your legs fail, run with your heart.
Don’t mess with a runner — they know how to turn misery into triumph.

Out there, between miles, blisters, sweat, suffering… and glory, we talk to God.

We thank Him for every step, every heartbeat.
For the sun, the cold, the rain…
for blessing us with the chance to be out there.

Edwing, I’m sure, is now running and photographing angels.

And all along those 13.1 miles this Saturday, I know he’ll be there… keeping pace, and keeping it fun.