Chad

People have always commented on how honest my blog is. I've admitted to embarrassing things on this page. I've shared some real emotions and admitted to numbers and stories that I'm not proud of. So, why stop now?

I hit my first true emotional and physical rut over the course of this past month. I've gained back nearly 10 pounds of the weight I've lost. 

Gained. 

Wow. I never thought I'd have to use that word referencing my weight, ever again. The thought of it really saddens me. I've hid the whole struggle (as best I can), from my family and friends. This process has become such an important part of my life, that I'm actually losing sleep over it. I can't sleep, but I can certainly eat and I've watched myself do things I promised I'd never do again. I've let other people and sadness dictate what I do with my body. I let the instant gratification of delicious food and laziness win this past month. I'm sick of it, plain and simple.

How do I stop it? As humans we are so incredibly stubborn. Sometimes we can't even convince ourselves to do the things we desperately need to do.  We self-sabatage. It's unfortunate, but sometimes it takes tragedy to remind us how valuable our own life is. 

Last week, Chad Rogers went for a run and never came home to his wife and baby. I was hundreds of miles away at the time, but I felt deeply connected to the story. Maybe it was the fact that he was from my town, or perhaps because he was close to people I know. But I think the truth is, I felt connected to him because he was a runner. I almost came home a day early to help search for him.

I couldn't help thinking about the whole situation, how connected we all are no matter how different the lives are that we lead. His scent was last picked up close to my apartment building, in a place that I, myself have run. Our feet have hit the same pavement, we've passed the same old fuel shop, and probably waved to the same old lady that gardens in the early-morning heat. 

We probably thought about different things on our runs. We probably ran for different reasons. He was a marathon runner and he could probably run my route in half the time it takes me. He was the type of runner that if I passed him, I'd probably change my route to avoid the embarrassment of him seeing me run like a turtle. I don't know much about him, but I know we were different. But I also know that for one reason or another, we would both run.

Did I ever pass him? I've seen so many people on my runs, I could never remember all the faces. I was supposed to run the night he disappeared, but I ultimately decided against it. My mind raced around this thought after he first went missing.

I didn't come home early from my trip, but my roommate and I had already planned to head out and search when I got home. I received word on my drive home that Chad's body had been found.  It was found in a portable restroom at the school by my old apartment, where I spent the first year of my journey training. I ran my first real mile on that track, lost my first 100 pounds. I experienced a lot of sadness over that news, a lot of sadness for a man I never met. I immediately thought of his family, and I watched as they thanked the community in a news conference that afternoon.

It was a tragic end to a story that deeply impacted so many people in my town. And although the town mourned and thought of the family, I imagine they were also thinking the same thing I thought...That could have been me. That could have been anyone. It could have been a friend or a family member, someone I loved. 

When the news first broke of his disappearance, he was referred to as a Liberty runner. I realized that only a day later, that I was referencing him just as "Chad". Chad was a Liberty resident who happened to value one of the same things I do. Running meant something to him. I'll probably never know exactly what, but I know enough to know that it was important to him. 

So what does this all mean? Why has Chad's story become a part of mine? 

We're all human. We're all stubborn in our own ways. We're all valuable. We forget to take care of ourselves. You forget when you're busy living, how painfully short life is.  We stay in dead-end jobs, waste time on hopeless relationships, say things we shouldn't say, and forget to say the things we should. We pass up opportunities for greatness to avoid discomfort. We stop fighting our demons out of laziness. In my case, I just made excuses for overeating and stopped running when it got difficult.

I can't win every battle, but I'm worth fighting for. If I may leave this life that early, I can't keep wasting time. Chad's life was cut far too short, but it was valuable. It was valuable to his family and the people who loved him. It was valuable to me. My prayers are with his family and friends as they struggle to find peace. 

I've got another day to live still, and I'm blessed to have another day to run. 

More about Chad's story here...