"And it came to me then that every plan was a tiny prayer to Father Time"

The outpouring of support and love in the wake of Archie's passing has been overwhelming and so very appreciated. Matt and I are...Well, we're hanging in there. We have so many questions and so much self-recrimination as we turn over in our minds the events of Saturday. What did we do? What did we miss? How did this happen?

We cleaned Archie's cage and put it in storage Sunday, so that we won't be faced with it every time we go into the living room. It was harder, more final, than digging his grave for some reason. Grief has left me feeling weak and exhausted; I felt alright to go to work today, but after a full day of pretending everything was fine for the benefit of my students, I feel hollow and fragile again.

I didn't want this post to focus on Archie, but I have to address it. I'm distracted and off-kilter, but I'm attempting to move forward.

Last week, I had an (almost) perfect running week. Every day I planned to run in the morning, I ran. I was ready to conquer my long run, but I obviously skipped it. I haven't felt up to running. I do hope to run Tuesday evening and then get back on track for morning runs, even if my mileage is lower.

Last time a pet passed, running was too much time to think. It was awful. But I want to stay in my routine; I think it will help.

I just finished Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running and have a full review planned for this week, so hopefully that will help me ease back into blog posts that aren't maudlin.

But I just wanted to say thank you, and that your words have meant more than you can imagine. They've been a balm for an ache I think will never disappear, but has eased at least a little.

ABK

Goodbye, Little Bird

I wanted to end this week with a report on my training, but I can't bring myself to write it.

Archie passed away unexpectedly on Saturday. He was his usual energetic self all morning, but he started showing signs of illness sometime after lunch, and he stopped breathing around 4pm. Matt and I had been nursing him and we tried CPR, but to no avail.

Birds have evolved to hide illness until it's very serious; he's been sick once before and we must have gotten lucky because he recovered then. But this time...

We'll never know what made him so sick so fast, and not having answers makes this feel like some awful dream. It can't be true. But is is.

We are devastated. Archie was a huge part of everything we did daily. He was so curious and always wanted to be where the action was. If I was in the kitchen, he would be on my shoulder or in a cabinet, inspecting my work.

A video posted by Matt Kearney (@stokeonthewater) on Jul 2, 2015 at 4:40pm PDT

He loved to cuddle. He'd sit on our keyboards and nudge our fingers with his head when he wanted scratches.

He'd sit on our shoulders and press his beak against our faces when he wanted kisses. He slept in our shirts. He fell asleep in our hands. He would chirp and sing in his sleep. He would enjoy the ride under Matt's hat when we took road trips. 

He loved when we had rice or pasta for dinner, and he wasn't shy about eating off our plates, although he made quite the mess. When he heard me telling a story about my day, he'd hop over to me and get as close to my face as possible. Sometimes he would strut along the floor instead of flying, like he thought he was a little person. 

He loved to get tangled in my hair, and once we had to cut him free. He hated when I wore nail polish, so I never did. He loved to preen our eyelashes and eyebrows. 

He would sit on my shoulder and preen while I washed my face and brushed my teeth, so we always got ready for bed together.  He was truly a part of the family, not aloof or distant like some people might think a bird would be.

He loved everyone. It's unusual for lovebirds to bond with more than one person, but Archie bonded with both me and Matt AND he loved everyone who walked through our door. He wanted to always be near people.

And now the house feels empty and quiet. It was so sudden. It just feels so unfair.

We put him in his little bed and then into a box, which we buried in an underground cairn in the backyard. Archie loved cardboard boxes, so it almost seemed fitting for one to be his final resting place. We bought a birdbath and ceramic bird ornament to finish the memorial. As we were digging the grave, a little rainbow appeared in the sky. As we finished putting in the birdbath, a huge storm unleashed. We sat outside and watched until it was too dark to see. We didn't want to leave him alone out there, when he so clearly belonged warm and soft in our shirts inside the house. We did what we could, but it still feels nightmarish and unreal.

I'm trying to take comfort in knowing that in his final moments, he felt the warmth of our hands and heard the sound of our voices. He wasn't alone. He was such a little bird, and so young to die so suddenly. We did what we could to give him a full, happy life, and I think he knew how loved he was.

Baby Archie, October 2011. Rest in peace, little bird.

ABK

Things I Tell Myself to Get Out the Door

In order to successfully move my runs to the 4am hour, I had to play mind games with myself. Now that I've gotten into the routine, it's not so bad. Once I'm up, it's easy, and morning runs leave me with a ton of energy throughout the day. I really believe I'm a better teacher on days I wake up early to run.

It amuses me that my long run alarm is set later than my weekday runs.

Still, I have to cajole myself to get out bed. Here are some things I remind myself that I love about morning runs as I'm shuffling around the bedroom like a zombie:

Feeling like I'm the only person in the world. I very rarely see another runner out that early, and if I do, I feel something like 10x more runner-solidarity than at any other time of day.

The bump it gives my runner reputation. I may not be the fastest, but no one can question my dedication.

One of my wake-up buddies, Montana, and I talked about this the other day. It got me thinking about the people who believe in me. I don't want to let them down!

I don't have to worry about what I look like. It's pitch black! Even if someone does see me, they won't be able to tell how gross I am, or if my run is little more than a hunched-over shuffle.

Cool weather. The temperature difference between 4am and evening is 20 degrees, so I love taking advantage of the cooler weather.

I guess "cool weather" is relative, but 77 feels amazing these days!

Minimal accessories! I don't need to worry about a hat or sunglasses; often I don't wear my headphones on a morning run. Everything just gets simplified.

I'll feel unstoppable the rest of the day because I started it with me-time. I spend all day "on stage", talking and interacting with others, being the most perfect version of myself that I can be. Having some alone time first thing in the morning to get my head right is invaluable.

And of course, I love feeling like a super badass because I woke up when the rest of the world was still sleeping!

How do you convince yourself to get going on a tough workout?
Have you noticed more autumnal weather this week?
What do you love about your chosen time-of-day to run/workout?

ABK