My last country run was down a lonely road into the small town of Jacksonville.
I wasn't sure where I was running to or towards. I knew I had a few options. Grandmom's first house, or the house she recently died in, or her new gravesite. I ended up on the back porch of the house she had most recently lived in. Around me were the various gardening tools and whimsical decoration ideas she'd left behind her. Shells in a glass jar. A red necklace on a stone grasshopper. A metal toy bike in a flower box. A wind compass on the roof.
I couldn't really cry at the funeral, or when I found out she had died, but after running 2 miles to this porch I could cry here for 5 minutes and then suck it up again to run back. I left the 5 minutes on my watch as they were a part of my run.