The light in the valley

 - an apology for silence.

Many bloggers fail to carry on.  The blogging stops, the followers hang around a bit and then disperse.  I am one such lapsed blogger.  The LAMM is now four days away, close enough for the weather reports for the region to be a source of anxiety, close enough for further training to be at best decorative rather than functional.  The preparation is past, now it is time to play the game.

So what's with the silence?  For several months my thoughts were hijacked by the crab.  My brother-in-law was diagnosed with and shortly thereafter died of a particularly unpleasant cancer.  For several months the awful possibility that his cancer had been a hereditable one pre-empted all thought, before the evidence was gathered that gave us the confidence that his was the sporadic version, that our kids would not be faced with that threat on their horizons. For that time, I could not write, I could only trawl the web hopelessly, searching for answers that didn't exist, reading and rereading in many forms the same empty content.  

That time is over.  Strands of abandoned thought resumed, the normal chafing and irritation almost welcome as the greater worries recede.  "Me" didn't come into the story much during those months, nor did Parkinson's, nor did running, or did it? 

I'm not so sure now.  The quality of light is different in the valley of the shadow of death.  The small and insignificant shows up bright and of great value.  Watching my bro-in-law revise and abandon his goals as the crab bit deeper raised the value of my own.  Was I getting a tad discouraged with 15 minute miling? 15 minute miling is fine, thank-you. It's a sodding busy time of year to go gallumphing off to the northernmost parts, taking a weekend off to run the LAMM, is this sensible? Yup. 

It's not about Parkinson's, or is it? However crocked the PD will leave me, I get to see the sky, watch the clouds, feel the wind.  And now, while I can still get out and run, challenge the hills, feel the rain on my face and the icy wet of peaty bog numbing my feet, I will cherish it all.  I am alive, and PD or no PD, will live it to the limits.  I will do it for H. and I will do it for me.

I have, temporarily at least, stopped grumbling.  The light in the valley is the consolation we are given, the ability to see the ordinary as precious, to value minute by minute the gift of time.  Open eyes, seize the chance, be grateful, and run.