March 2026

"I had this dream that we were talking on the phone. I called you because you kept canceling appointments with me. So, I asked you: What are you doing? And you said: I'm crewing Sissy."

This recent dream a friend had about me was playing in my head as I walked in circles around the outside of my mother's townhouse. I was certain it must be 400 meters around the block: go down to the end of the row of townhouses, a left to the alley, a left to walk along the row of garages on my left, a left at the end of the garages, along the street, and another left to start it all again. It's not 400 meters. It's 200 meters--only half of a quarter mile. But this is my loop. I can't go far because it makes my mom nervous. Sometimes it's enough for her just to know I'm right out the door, close by. Sometimes she stands at the front door and waves with each lap. And sometimes she's on the porch as I round the corner, her face scrunched in that agitated crinkle and her sweater falling off her shoulder: "What. Are. You. Doing?!" Her words land like punches. "I never know where you are!" I am on a short leash. I'm walking in circles. This is what it means to be crewing my mother. I'm crewing Sissy.

My mother's nick name is Sissy. I haven't always called her Sissy, only since I decided to get up in the middle of the night twenty-five years ago to perform a Hail Mary forgiveness ceremony so I could feel some peace. I didn't want to wake up at fifty years old, caught in the same loop of crushing grief from the pain of a relationship that she just could never have with me.

I didn't plan to call her Sissy, it just happened. And I didn't expect a real change from this experience, but the end of the ceremony came with a divine call to action, a voice asking:

Now, what does she need from you?

And,

This will only work if you really let it go. You can have sympathy from others about your relationship with your mother, or you can have real freedom. But you cannot have both.

So, I thought about it, and what she needed was attention: phone calls, letters, presents, and her favorite: Hallmark cards. I could do that. And I could also stop extracting sympathy from my people for the things she said to me or did to me--sympathy that could never fill the hole or bridge the gap of what was missing anyway.

I could not, if my life depended on it, relay the amount of time it took between this ceremony and my liberty, but I can say that I realized one day that I was free. Her demands stopped, her harassment stopped, her criticism and aggression and her tones of disapproval and dislike--all gone. She never became very interested in my life, but she did become soft and demure with me, almost childlike. There was no depth to our relationship by normal standards, but there was peace--oodles and oodles of peace, and humor. In that made-up ceremony in the middle of the night, I had released her from any expectations to be a mother to me, something that had seemed to rattle her my entire life, and she was also free. We had an unconventional closeness. And we lived in that beautiful space for a long, long time.

And then dementia came knocking.

And now, she's back to who she was, and I'm caught back in the loop, and walking in circles.

But it is different this time around. I have done that work and lived those peaceful years with her, and so I have some reserves to draw on to serve her in this place. And, I have become a runner again. There were so many things in store for me that I couldn't have imagined when I stepped back into running ten years ago, and I have to say that one of the most fulfilling aspects of my running life is, hands down, when I'm not running at all, but when I'm working in service to another runner as they pursue a goal. Crewing for a runner and crewing for Sissy are not dissimilar.

Crewing for a runner doesn't require a certain skillset, per say--anyone can mix electrolytes in a bottle, and offer snacks. But being a good crew member does require certain characteristics, usually the same characteristics a successful endurance athlete will possess: patience, a problem-solving mindset, and not being quick to panic. You also need to be tuned in to your runner and their goals, and like a hovering guardian angel, you do a systems check when they come through an aid station: What is their mental state? Are they happy? Fatigued? Distressed? Can we push and do a fast turnaround? Do they need a pep talk? Should they rest and reset? Is this the low point they knew they might hit and now it's time for a gentle kick in the pants? Are they taking in enough calories? Do they want a pancake? Are they going to puke? Is it going to rain? Do they have a headlamp? How are their feet? Do they need new shoes? Are they warm enough? Too warm? You anticipate, assess, execute, move them through, reflect, pack up, and start the cycle again as you head to the next aid station.

Crewing for my mom has many parallels, with a few exceptions: she didn't sign up for this race, she's not trained for the terrain, and we don't know when it ends. In fact, what is the end? When this disease takes her physical life? When it completely takes her memory? Haven't we already had some endings, but, like a backyard ultra, we just keep doing one more lap? I can do a systems check, but it's just to keep her safe and as comfortable as possible. She didn't sign up for this race. Unlike with runners, we are not working towards the same goal. She is in one world; I'm in another. Even so, I like the frame that came from my friend's dream--crewing for Sissy. I know how to crew; I'm confident in that role.

Which brings me to this: another friend asked me to write a post for his endurance athletics platform and proposed that I explore this angle on crewing: "One trait that makes people good at crewing is selflessness. But that same trait can stand in the way of a runner taking care of themselves as unreservedly as they take care of others. Do you do the same for yourself? If not, why not?"

Talk about getting right to the heart of my struggle with running! Talk about getting right to the heart of my struggle with everything.

I love to help. I really, really do. At the risk of sounding haughty, I think it's a gift. The problem is, given my generation, religious background and gender, it was also nurtured and expected. Maybe even exploited.

My service equaled my worth. It was the sum total of my worth. If I wasn't giving, I was selfish. If I took a break from giving, I was invisible. If I didn't have anything left to give, well, come back when you do.

When I became a part of the running world, I repeatedly heard about the idea of the selfish runner. This didn't land well with me. I couldn't sign on to the idea that this pursuit which changed the entire trajectory of my life, transformed my life, handed my life back to me--was selfish. Was taking time to take care of my physical, mental and spiritual wellbeing selfish? I thought I had come to terms with this a few years back when I wrote an essay called The Selfish Runner:

"...There is an idea I have heard from a number of people since I started this runner's life 5 1/2 years ago: running is selfish. It came up again during a discussion at the running camp I attended when we were talking about what is it that gets in the way of our goals, starting with what we tell ourselves is in the way, but then really digging down another level or two to what is really, really in the way: the belief that our running life, this life that we love, is inherently selfish...This isn't an easy idea to unravel. We define selfish as: someone who is constantly thinking of themselves, usually at the expense of others, with a careless regard of what it will cost other people. I'm sorry, but that is not what running is. It might be who an individual runner can be. But running itself? No. When I began running, that was me finally regarding myself as much as I regard other people. That was me seeking my life, as much as I am there for other people. That was me not serving other people at my own expense."

Currently, that state of mind reflected in the excerpt from my essay The Selfish Runner seems to have slipped away. Maybe I was naive to think that some of those core beliefs that we internalize, like I am only worthwhile when I am serving, can be totally irradicated. I want to believe they can be. But maybe you master a level and then, like an endurance athlete, there will always be unforeseen circumstances that will arise that offer us yet another opportunity to find our limits. Maybe that's the secret of the whole thing: the obstacles, injuries, and unforeseen circumstances are a given in life, they are life, and when you surrender to that, you can approach life with curiosity and frame life's bumps and boulders as opportunities.

July 2026

So where does this leave me now, four months later, with the question: "Do you do the same for yourself [take care of yourself unreservedly]? If not, why not?"

We are through the crisis with my mother, but now we are on the indeterminate road of caretaking as her dementia progresses. Recently she was moved to memory care and, as her medications have kicked in and she's getting the care she needs, things have stabilized for her, and I'm not required to walk in circles anymore. Now that I've had a little space to come up for air, I can see the landscape of my life again, and I can see how far I had cast myself aside in the last six months. I drive twelve hours round trip to see her. I field calls from her, and text messages and emails from the nurses and from my family when I'm not there. I feel guilty and heartbroken when I can't be with her, yet I am relieved to get in the car and head home after the exhausting visits. I want to be all in for my mom when I'm there; it is not lost on me that I didn't learn that from her. I have one sister who lives in the same town, and she sits permanently in the back of my mind; I'm always aware that the burden falls heaviest on her. I have my own business, my own responsibilities, major life transitions and passions to attend to.

What am I supposed to do?

What am I supposed to do? I wrote that question and then walked away from the computer. For years I did not take care of myself as unreservedly as I cared for others, because I think that my deep-down core belief was that when push comes to shove, other people and their needs matter more. I won't be a good person if I don't adhere to that, and I may likely even lose people if, when they push, I don't choose to shove myself aside. I don't believe that anymore, but I did behave that way these past months. When push came to shove, I did shove myself aside. In a crisis, maybe that's the right response; I don't know. What I do know is that I shoved myself aside too long, but I also know that I caught myself doing so. I read the signs and I stopped.

But what am I supposed to do???

When I couldn't answer that question and I stepped away from the computer, I asked myself what I needed.

I need some water and some fresh air.

So, I got some water and went outside. I stood in the sun for a minute, then asked "Now what?"

A walk sounds nice. Better get some sunscreen.

So, I went inside and put on sunscreen, changed my shoes, and hit the trail. "I forgot my water--should I go back?"

Hmmm...no, I'll just walk a little bit and turn around. Good time to assess pain and see how the body feels.

"How is my body feeling? Any pain today?"

No, everything feels a little stiff but no pain....A salad sounds really good for dinner.

"Yeah, a salad is a good idea. And some protein. And some chocolate."

And then it dawned on me: that internal conversation is me crewing for myself! And that's the answer! It's not to never serve others. It's not to only serve others. The answer is I have access to my own internal crew 24/7 if I just choose to listen. Crewing for myself unreservedly is the way to another level of mastery in running and in life.

I don't know by what means other people understand their lives, or their mothers. But I am forever grateful that mine is through running. From here on out, I will make sure that I listen to my internal crew leader while I have the privilege of crewing for Sissy in this sacred leg of her race.

I