July 11, 2016--TIME

Yesterday, I ran a local 5k. I have run this race several times usually placing  between 4th and 8th  in my age group.  I decided to set a goal this year--I was going to place 3rd in my  age group. I was trying to be a realist-- 1st place for me would be impossible, 2nd a dream, but  just maybe I could get a 3rd place medal this year. So I set to work logging extra miles and incorporating more speed work into my runs. I felt pretty good about my chances. After registering for the race 1/2 hour before because of my commitment phobia,  I thought that I ran the race well.  In race terms for me this means running at a good clip for 3.1 miles and feeling like I am going to throw up by the time I cross the finish line. Ran fast-check, felt like throwing up-check, I really thought this might be the year---The elusive medal was finally going to be mine. After checking the times,  I was crushed to discover that I had come in 4th AGAIN--- by ONE SECOND. That was hard to swallow--ONE SECOND!

 Don't worry, I've had time to let it sink in and put it in perspective. It's really not a big deal in the big scheme of things. Right??? It's only time after all. After mulling that one second over and over in my mind, I began to turn it into one minute, one hour, one day and I began to think about the possibilities of time. What would I do with that extra second, minute, hour or day?  Whom would I share it with if it were possible?  This is the premise of Mitch Albom' s short novel entitled For One More Day.  The main character of this book, Charley, comes home one day and gets the opportunity of a lifetime--He gets to spend one more day with his mother-who is dead--imagine having the good fortune to spend one more day with someone you love who is deceased. I am pretty sure it would be a dream come true. One more opportunity to appreciate an important person and really get it!
 The thing about death is it is so final. Never seeing, touching, smelling or hearing that person's voice again. It's an ache no one can feel for you. I'll never forget the last words my grandmother said to me, "I don't know what I'm going to do without you, Marsha, Parsh." I've thought about those 12 words several times over the last  20 odd years. They comfort be.  Albom's story is in an odd way comforting too because it lets the reader enjoy the fantasy of living  out one more second, minute, hour or day with a deceased loved one. That would be worth more than a 1000 medals----but don't worry, I'll be trying for 3rd place again next year!