The Good in Grief

So there I am, mile 26 of the Austin Marathon. My AirPods are dead. I’m on the verge of tears, and I think if I take one more step, I might actually die. But that’s when I start to hear the cheering and shouting from friends and strangers encouraging me to keep going. I turn the corner, I make it up the hill, and there are my friends and family helping me cross the finish line. I nearly collapsed into my dad’s arms at that moment, and that moment meant more to me than I can ever explain. I freaking did it. I finished a marathon. Hi, I’m Sam, and before moving to Austin, the only running you would ever find me doing was running to the nearest happy hour. But after moving to one of the most fit cities in America, I found myself being talked into doing a half marathon with some friends.

Little did I know, this one ended up being one of the worst days of my life. The morning of the race was pretty typical. Woke up at 4:30 AM ate a banana, and contemplated why I decided to do this in the first place and headed to the start line. My family actually lives in Buffalo, New York, so unfortunately they couldn’t make it to the race that morning, but I knew I’d get plenty of support from afar. My mom was the type of person who would wake up at 4:30 AM to make sure I was awake and wish me good luck before the race. But oddly enough, my phone was very quiet That morning, around mile seven of the 13.1 mile race, I decided to give her a call, no answer. About an hour later with a half marathon medal around my neck, I received a phone call from my sister that would turn my life upside down.

She was calling me from the hospital where my mom was admitted after not feeling well for a few days, flu-like symptoms, a cough, but nothing we thought would be too serious. But after a number of tests, my mom was diagnosed with stage four small cell lung cancer, a rare and rapidly growing disease with very few treatment options. With this information I got on the next flight to Buffalo, and the next nine months were a blur of clinical trials and hospital rooms and very difficult conversations. One conversation in particular was when my mom told me that whenever I see a heads up penny, that will be her way of saying hello from heaven. And then in November of 2022, I lost my mom to cancer. Now when they say bad things come in threes, they really weren’t kidding because in the same year of my mom’s passing, my dad was diagnosed with stage four colon cancer, and I went through a really bad breakup with the person I thought I was going to marry.

So how does one go back to normal life? After experiencing such loss, I honestly didn’t know if I would feel happy ever again. After my mom’s funeral, I decided to go back to Austin to try and feel a bit of normalcy. I went back to work, I hung out with my friends and spent a lot of time cuddling my dog. But unfortunately, nothing was working. I was more depressed than ever. My therapist suggested giving myself a big goal to work toward, and so I did what any mentally unstable person would do. I decided to sign up for a marathon. I registered for the 2024 Austin Marathon in honor of my mom and to raise money and awareness for small cell lung cancer through the nonprofit longevity. Now, this was also around the time that run clubs were becoming really popular in Austin. And so I thought, what a great place to go and meet like-minded people who would also hold me accountable for my training.

But it was at these run clubs that I was meeting the most incredible people who had really similar stories as to why they started running, loss of loved ones, breakup, grief, everyone was talking about running, becoming really popular, but no one was really talking about the reason why. And so I thought to myself, why has no one created a community specifically around this? At this point, I had been training for months coping with grief in the healthiest way I knew how. And for the first time in a long time, I felt purpose again. Completing this marathon meant more to me than I can ever explain. So on the morning of the race, I was a nervous wreck. And when the gun went off to signify the start of the race, I looked down at my feet to take one last deep breath, and there at my feet was a shiny heads up penny.

I knew in that moment my mom was going to be with me the entire way. Now, if you’ve ever run a marathon, you know that the first few miles are absolutely electric. It’s not until around mile 18 to 20 that you start contemplating your entire existence. But nonetheless, we completed the marathon and there are my friends and family cheering me across the finish line. 20 weeks of mental and physical grit, over $5,000 raised for charity and a whole new healthy version of Sam that I was so damn proud of. After the marathon, I kept up with my running as a way to socialize with friends, and I still had this lingering idea of wanting to create my own club, and now I know what you’re probably thinking. Great, another run club, just what Austin, Texas needed. But what I realized was that a lot of people were starting to run because they were coping with grief.

And so I wanted to create a community where people could know that they were just a little less alone. And one day I was on a run with my friend Carl, when he showed me a song titled Good Grief. And immediately something in my brain just clicked. That was it. That was the name. And so that’s when I began planning what is now today, good grief, running. I was really intentional with everything that went into planning. I chose a coffee shop instead of a brewery to start at because I learned the hard way that drinking during grief was really bad for me. I chose the color yellow because my mom used to plant sunflowers in her garden for me and my sister every summer. I chose to start on Monday mornings because I wanted it to be the first thing that people did to start their week on a high note, and it made the I in grief, lowercase, because my mom’s name was Rita.

And so the R on the I reminded me of her name. The first club consisted of about me and 20 of my friends, and I got up on a table and I shared my reasoning for starting good grief, and I was so nervous in that moment. I think I nearly blacked out because being vulnerable in front of a group of people kind of like I am right now, is a very difficult thing. But what I realized was that by allowing myself to be vulnerable, I created a safe space for others to feel like they could share their stories too and feel just a little less alone. I just remember getting in my car after that first run and immediately sobbing because I was so overwhelmed with emotions, knowing that every single Monday morning I get to honor my mom at this club and help others experiencing grief and learn how to cope in a healthy way like I did.

And I knew in that moment it was going to be something really special. Which brings me to today, nine months later, good grief has grown to over 150 runners every single Monday morning who come together to experience community, share their stories, and accomplish new goals together. It’s a place where people can come together to find the good in grief through movement and community. I saw a quote that said, I dare you to sign up for a marathon and not have it change your life. And that quote holds to be true. Running has allowed me to feel closer to my mom to accomplish new goals, and to create this amazing community to help Austinites feel just a little less alone. Thank you.