The first week after Gordie died I toggled between three feelings:  disbelief, sadness, and fear.  The thought that went through my head on an hourly basis was is this really happening?  At other times I was just lost in sadness.  And at times I was paralyzed with fear about the future, specifically about raising my kids alone.

However, after the funeral, another feeling started to take hold of my mind and body:  anger.  I could feel it at various times starting like a boiling pot of water in my belly.  It would spread up my body through my back, shoulders, and neck and down my arms. Then it would spread down my legs making me restless, causing me to tap my foot.  It was like my entire body was tightening but not the type of tightening caused by stress or anxiety.  Rather, this was the type of feeling that makes you clench your fists and your jaw.

I was just pissed.

The anger kept me up at night.  I lay in my bed at my parents’ house thinking:

Why the fuck did this happen to my boys?

Why the fuck did this happen to me?

Nobody had worked harder to stay together than Gordie and me and this is how it ends?

Gordie and I were good people with good values and morals.  Our sons are good boys.  We do not deserve this.

And the one thought that drove me into a rage.

I could not stop this.  I could not protect my boys from this.

My anger started taking control of my actions.  I was impatient, and I was not a patient person before this.  I had a short fuse.  I would snap at Nathan over the smallest thing and then hate myself for it.  I was borderline reckless when I was with the boys.  If a car would try to cut me off on the freeway,  I would play a game of chicken with it thinking hey mother fucker, you want to live more than I do right now so don’t fuck with me.  I was never reckless without my sons with me.  My rationale was that if we all went to heaven together as a result of an accident, fine.  But I would not do anything to cause them to lose their only remaining parent.

I knew I needed to do two things:  start seeing a therapist and use my running to get the anger out of my body and mind.  I had always used running to relieve stress and blow off steam.  I loved all sorts of exercise:  swimming, hiking, biking, skiing, etc.  But running was the only exercise that helped me get to a better emotional state.  It was time to kick the running up a notch.