This run was originally meant as a birthday run, a personal
challenge to see if I could cover my age in miles. As I mapped the route,
however, the basis and tenor rapidly evolved. You see, I had selected the U.S.
Naval Academy, in Annapolis, MD, as my starting point. But why?
Why the Naval Academy? I am not an alumna nor a local
resident of Annapolis. I was raised in
the western U.S. and went to school in the Northeast. I only made its formal acquaintance in 2003, when I served as the Marine Corps Executive Officer for a
summer training segment of midshipmen. I have no obvious connection with the
storied institution.
My relationship is with those who inhabited its marbled halls, passing through the stately columns on their way to becoming Marines and Sailors. Among deeply cherished friends are numerous graduates whose counsel I seek, whose examples
provide a path, and whose characters I respect and admire. All of them are
remarkable people. I am grateful that
their desire to serve resulted our
lives intersecting.
I have also lost some of these friends, some in combat,
others to their own internal struggles. I have wrestled heavily with the most
recent loss, occurring last year. I met him in 1995, at grad school, and we were
two of a trio of “young ‘uns” in our program – he just out of the Academy and
me, nigh two years from undergrad. His magnanimous character, his humor, and his
intelligence - all supported a palpable presence and portended achievement. His
nature was humble, he never spoke of his heroism nor his accolades, rather the stories
he told were of others or of his family. He focused on lifting others, remembering details important to them and always asking how he could assist, what he could do to elevate their lives.
He was compassionate, loving and sincere.
In the end, there was something underneath, buried deeply,
that slowly clawed and mangled his spirit – and worst of all – those of us who
knew him over these years were barely aware that it existed. The burden mantled his being, crushing him under its weight, unable to be mitigated by the
surrounding joy and brilliance of his family’s love. Ultimately, he
relented and succumbed, committing suicide.
Last December, following a ceremony with celebratory eulogies that gave no
solace, we crossed the footbridge to the Naval Academy cemetery. The sun gleamed pale, worthless against a doleful wind, and our tears froze, staining our grief-colored cheeks. The missing man formation soaring overhead only cemented his
absence, as he was lowered into the earth under the bugle-thin strain of Taps.
A year of unanswered “whys” has led me back to Annapolis and back to his grave site, finally ready to make peace with his departure. No
longer will I carry the “why” of his leaving; I take up the “how” of his living
and will move forward with it as my guide.
Please consider making a donation to the organizations I am supporting for this run. If you are local, and wish to join me on my journey from
Annapolis to D.C., please DM or email me.
