My reasons for not running this morning included a sore back, pulsing arms and a few scrapes, bumps and bruises. The aches and pains were inflicted by mounds of moving boxes. As some of you know, and some of you don’t, I am running away to Newcastle England, where I will join my husband as he trudges through his first year of medical school. My worn-out running shoes will be mandatorily, but unnecessarily, checked for incendiary devices the first week of September when I board the plane to cross the Pond.
I’ve done a lot of running around this town, logging many miles and wearing out a few pairs of shoes on the northern Nevada pavement. Monday morning was a time to reflect on the miles and look forward to the path I am going to take from here. Running down a new road is exciting in its own way, but this time, there is no turning back.
I will spend one year in Newcastle, exploring the parks and trails and career opportunities there. After that stint, my running shoes will hit the sand as we complete my husband’s second year of medical school in Grenada, an island in the Caribbean just north of Venezuela. The third and fourth years, we will be back stateside for clinical rotations. However, where we will wind up in the United States is a mystery. The school he is attending has partnerships with hospitals from New York to Los Angeles and everywhere in between. If we are placed in hell and it freezes over, be assured that I will run there, too.
With my husband on the road to his MD and me on a path of personal discovery, Saturday was a good time to tread some of my favorite stomping grounds around Sparks. So, down to the Sparks Marina I went.
It was a bright, cool morning. As my feet pounded across the familiar terrain, I couldn’t help but feel the sense of home and community. None of the people I passed knew me from Adam. However, every face I saw met me with a smile. Some even chirped a quick “hello.” I am about to discover if Sparks’ sense of community is something that is unique to this part of the world. I have faith that I can find that feeling of community just as strong in Newcastle as it is in northern Nevada.
Sunday, as I finished packing the last of my life into cardboard boxes and suitcases, I knew that by the next morning my muscles would ache. In the grand scheme of things, however, I also knew that taking a day off from running would be just fine. I have plenty of paths to discover up ahead. The road doesn’t run out, it just takes a turn. I’ll keep you all updated on my life as a marathon in the months ahead.
Sarah Cooper is a reporter for the Daily Sparks Tribune. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.