Run to Remember

Two weeks ago, I was running thirteen beautiful miles through downtown Seattle. The scenery was breathtaking – nothing beats running amongst green grass AND water (my hometown is so dry and brown that it is actually toying with banning barbeques) and the temperature was the perfect mid-60s (San Antonio is arguably hotter than Hell). Both of these perfect conditions helped make the experience absolutely unforgettable, but it was one small mile amongst the thirteen that managed to captivate me, and ultimately propelled me to the finish line. Somewhere after mile five, right about the point where the voices in my head started shouting, “This is beyond stupid Amy. Why the hell are you running this far?” I happened to notice a poster of a soldier. He was young, handsome, and smiling… and it wasn’t until my eyes drifted towards the bottom of the poster that I noticed he was killed in action. Approximately 5 ft later, there was another poster-- another beautiful smile, another barely-old-enough-to-vote-soldier staring back at me, another man-child taken too soon. And another. And another. And another.

Every few steps I passed by another fallen soldier’s face, and I forced myself to whisper his name out loud. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to remember a single name by the time I reached the finish line, but I wanted to make sure that I paid respect to each and every hero as I quietly ran by. It would be a lie to say that I didn’t start crying. I did. Running through that mile was like looking through a hourglass to my very worst nightmare. These beautiful men were gone forever—in a blink of an eye – poof!—life was turned off. And as usual, my over-analyzing brain went into hyper drive, ( and no, my legs unfortunately stayed in neutral) as all the thoughts that I had banished for the past ten months ago came flooding back. What if I someday ran past a photo of MY husband? Would I be able to continue running? Would I be able to pass that poster and leave it behind me or would I pull a neurotic-questionably-sane Amy-move and rip it out of the ground to carry with me? Would I be alone? How would I ever carry on when I can barely survive the fear of losing him?

And just like that, the answer danced in front of me. The key to surviving ANYTHING—loss, financial ruin, illness, or just plain facing down your worst fears—is simply to serve others. Help others, help yourself. The posters were placed in the ground—not by race officials—but rather by people who honest-to-goodness-cared. People who probably never even really digested the fact that 35,000 people would be running by, and would see those faces. They would feel the loss. They would connect with the pain. They would remember the fallen.

I knew instantly, this memorial had to be done again-- only this time in my hotter-than-Hell-barbeque-banning-hometown- of San Antonio. We would create a memorial and a running group, and we would honor as many brave Texans that we could afford during San Antonio’s Rock N Roll Marathon. We would carry on the memorial, and pay tribute to those—the soldier’s and their grieving families—who have paid the ultimate sacrifice. “We” – to include four amazing visionary souls—plan to make THIS memorial a reality. Monica, Amanda, Aaron, and Chaunte— four friends, some old, some new-- who are willing to work so that our Texans are NOT forgotten. A memorial-- so simple, yet so powerful-- it’s time for Texas to Run to Remember.

(Seattle's Run to Remember taken by Visionary-Amazing-Friend- Monica)