Ever since I was a little kid, my mom would always make sure to tell me I was a good kid. At least once a month, “Craig, you’re a good kid.” When I was younger it was usually because I was screwing up, and she wanted to remind me of how I should behave. Sometimes it was when she knew I was struggling with something, and she was trying to boost my confidence. Other times it was honestly her way of telling herself she didn’t do a horrible job raising me. More recently, I know it was her way of telling me she was proud of me and loved me and saying good bye.
Mom never really understood my relationship with running. When I ran cross country in high school, she always worried I would “hurt my feet, right before basketball season.” As an adult she finally stopped asking me if I “won” after a race. After my father passed, I ran a 50K in Sedona and Mom came to watch (Yes, I know ultra-running is not a spectator friendly sport). As I finished towards the back, I think she finally got that I wasn’t running to win anything. She said, “I think if you ran a little faster, you could be done a lot sooner” with a totally straight face.
On Wednesday night as I was leaving the hospital she asked me what my plans were. I was heading to the gym to get my swim workout in. She said, “Do good…..aw you always do good…do better.”
Mom passed on Friday night. She told me I was a good kid one last time…but I am more thankful for the challenge to do better
theironpalm 