Headwaters: W100: Running on Empty

Date: June 16, 2018

Purpose: to mourn, to grieve, to process the death of a dear angel.

Distance: 9 miles

Mount Olympus has always been a powerful and relevant mountain for my family and extended family for at least 50 years.

Half-way up, trying to not let the sun catch me.

Eva Hegewald is a peacemaker and a fighter, all in one. She is a peackemaker in the sense that she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. She is a fighter in the sense that when she gets cancer, she fights. So she is only mean towards cancer, one might say.

She was first diagnosed with cancer in her sinus. She fought it and she went on a mission. Then the cancer returned and went into her brain. She fought that cancer round, and then went on a mission to Germany. She then came home and the cancer had migrated into her hip and pelvis area. This time, it would not be quite as easy to fight and send into remission. In fact her cancer was more aggressive this time. Each time she got radiation in one area of her body, it would migrate into another area. For instance, the cancer went from her hip into her pelvis into her back. Despite her age, she fought nobly and took every medication (traditional or experimental) to keep the cancer at bay. Her faith on being healed did not waiver.

Until the doctor told her there was no more treatment options they knew of. She was put on bed rest. She chose not to eat, then not to drink. She communicated with family as long as she could. She spoke of the excitement to see Kevin again in the Spirit World. In fact those were the last intelligible words I remember coming from her mouth. Such faith in life after death and in the plan of salvation is incredibly rare, incredibly powerful, incredibly inspiring to all, especially to me, her youngest son. I hope I can have the same assurance my wonderful mother has that death is not the end of our existence, and that life indeed continues.

Mom passed away quietly and painlessly in her own home and in her own bed on June 14, 2018.

In the aftermath of her death, I felt totally weak. I felt emotionally and spiritually empty. I felt listless. I certainly didn’t want to run or care about my dumb race. Not. One. Bit.

Rather, I wondered if I had spent enough time with her while she was still on Earth. Had I reached out to her, ministered to her, nurtured her, cared for her, loved her, the way she deserved? The way she had done for me when I was young and helpless?

I didn't know, and I certainly couldn't do anything to change the answer at this point anyways.

So I did nothing for what seemed like an eternity to me.

Finally on June 16, 2 days after her passing, I woke up with great fire inside of me. I decided it was time to run off the grief and get into the high country again. I chose a relatively new way up a relatively old friend: the North Peak of Mount Olympus. This peak looks completely different from the northern vantage point than from the western vantage point where we live. It is very steep, with only a 100 yard stretch that is flat on the entire 8 mile loop. All the rest of it is a sheer struggle, just like my mom’s battle with cancer was a sheer struggle.

It just felt good to be running again and to start to get over the grieving process. Adrenaline is also medicine.