I started walking with my neighbor, Melissa, the winter before my 40th birthday. By the time my 40th birthday arrived in May, we had made it through the "Couch to 5K" running program. An exceptional accomplishment looking back at how we use to tick off the seconds in the run part of the run X minutes/walk Y minutes program. I'm 44 and 5 months now, and except for six months or so around Jim's final days with us, I've been running fairly consistently all that time. That's 53 months of consistent effort, trying to create a new life habit. And yet some days when I hit the pavement, it's all I can do to put one foot in front of the other and get through the run. From start to finish, the lethargy never lets up, I never "get my legs" during the run, I finish as miserable as I started. And I'll let you in on a little secret - after 53 months, it is a rare occurrence when I wake up and think "Oh boy, I have a run today!" Most days are a variation of "Oh crap, I have to run today." But then I get out there and it feels good, I end my run feeling glad I went, and most of the time very happy I'm done. It helps to have a goal and a partner. I just finished the Rochester Half Marathon and trained with my neighbor Russ, both the goal and my partner helped me get in those shoes and out the door. But then race day goes by and you still have to put one foot in front of the other, get out there and continue running. 
I've come to realize that living without my brother is another life habit I'm trying to create. Like running, I'd prefer not to have to do it, but I really have no other choice. There are days I wake up and think "I just can't do this. I can't live my life another 30 or 40 years without him." But I have to. So on those days, I concentrate on just getting through that one day, just like I get through those bad runs. I remember that there are people out there running the same race I am, and they understand the effort. Most days are like my runs - a mix of sadness missing him, but also full of my daily life. I push through the sadness and concentrate on the living. I have events that I look forward to, which relieves some of the pressure, but then they go by and I still have to live without Jim. Sometimes I think "This should be getting easier." But then I remember my running - some days it just plain sucks, but as long as I don't quit, I'll be just fine.
