It’s been four years since I last sat down to write here. Four years. A lifetime can happen in that amount of time. A story, a chapter- and in my case, several chapters. I’m not sure how transparent I should be, or if it matters, but I’ll share a few chapters:

I was in a car accident leaving me with a broken ankle which eventually developed into CRPS—a condition that changed my relationship with running and with my body. I am slowly pushing through and getting back on the road again.

My three grandkids and former step grandson lost their mom, something no child should have to endure. I’m hopeful that our family’s relationship with grief from losing Jillian can help the kids through these really difficult days. We get it. We’ve been there. We are STILL living it. Grief is it’s own animal and she doesn’t go far. But together, we can learn to slay the beast for awhile.

My mom fell and broke her hip, landing her in an assisted facility. It broke my heart seeing her lose her home and her independence. I can tell you though, she is handling the transition beautifully. Always and forever, “At least it’s not raining”. What a legacy!

I retired! I wake up every single morning just grateful. So grateful that I am able to be in the moment. All the things I envisioned when I retired. No regrets. Not one.

During those events, I have deliberately pulled away from the melanoma community. Living in mela-land was a constant rip of the Band-Aid, exposing the ragged, raw flesh beneath. I wasn’t able to heal so I could be the best person for myself, my kids and my precious grandbabies. A very special person once said to me, “You have to figure out what hurts and what helps”. So I withdrew and started focusing all my attention into healing. In all honesty, I believe time is our friend. I’ve been able to rise above the nonsense that life hands out, and find joy and purpose again. But it all takes so much time.

A few weeks ago, I was given the opportunity and inspiration to get back into raising melanoma awareness again through a generous donation to the Jillian Hayes Foundation. I’ve been thinking about it- I have some ideas. I know what this will require. I know it won’t always be easy. But for the first time in a long time, I feel ready.

My youngest daughter, Jenni, and I have begun another journey. The journey into sourdough. We’ve been baking like mad women and we’ve found it so satisfying. Something the two of us can share together. The contrast between grief, healing, and two women baking together. What a gift!

I would like to donate a percentage of our sales to the Jillian Hayes Foundation. Again, these are only ideas, but it feels good to continue to move in a positive direction. Think Billboards, Think Awareness.

Thank you for being patient with me. I think Jillian would approve.

Peace,

Susan