For the past several months, I’ve been increasing my fitness levels with my two fitness buddies, C and J. They work together and climb up and down The Mount twice, every Tuesday and Thursday. I knew C from when I was going to the gym, so I chimed in to increase my fitness levels.
We were a force to be reckoned with, the three of us. Up the 232 metre hike and a run down, with C allowing us 60 second breather at the top and bottom. He was built like The Hulk and did The Mount run for fun. J had been doing this for years and years and they’d started the double run at C’s suggestion.
I gave it a go and started looking forward to the bi-weekly challenge, hearing stories about their families, and talking smack. C was a great motivator. I put every effort in to keeping up with my crew and pushing myself to use every ounce of energy that I had in me.
C suggested we start going up three times up. My eyes widened as we set a date and were stoked when we achieved that goal. So three times became the new norm. Then one day while C was away, J and I did three and I carried on for four. I text C and let him know and the challenge was on. The evening that we attempted five in a row, my knees crapped out after two and I had to throw in the towel. C carried on and text when he’d finished the 5. I was happy for him, but wished I’d been celebrating with him.
Today I am going to C’s funeral. At the start of the week, J told me that C’d been a bit crook. Then he told me that they were switching off his life support, and then he told me that our fitness buddy had died.
I shook my head, I paced and I bawled. My friend, the forty year old fitness fanatic was here one day and gone the next. I’m no stranger to experiencing death, but it has still left me feeling lost and bereft that such a genuinely good person has gone.
Life is precious, a gift, something to experience and be grateful for. J and I still plan to walk up The Mount. Even though we will be missing a piece of our crew, we know he’ll be there challenging us until our lungs burn and our legs give way.
RIP my fitness buddy.