Memorial Day - Running with friends

Memorial Day can be conflicted and a little confusing. It is especially so for those returning from the war. I chuckle at the radio announcers talking about the long weekend being filled with barbeques and pool parties, because it has to be more than that. I also feel that devoting the day to solemn reflection and prayer is a little overdone - quite honestly, I prefer going to the memorials in DC on off days, or when the tourist season is over - the kind of reflection I crave is a little more personal and private.
That being said, I love parades and celebrations, but I really wasn't in the mood for one - even if this is my first memorial day back from the desert. Today, I started out with a good run - after all, I need to train for the marathon - but it was good - a little cathartic too. There is something about pushing yourself beyond the point of wanting to stop, and actually having a reason beyond personal improvement. Running on memorial day actually turned into my personal tribute so to speak. Not that 4 1/2 miles could ever be sufficient to pay tribute in and of itself, but it gave me a reason to keep going, and allowed me the time to privately honor my fallen comrades.
You see, I have come to view veterans in a few different categories. There are those that live their lives in the shadow of the sacrifice of their brothers. Now, don't get me wrong - I am not beginning to compare the 9 months I spent in Iraq, with the hell that the boys of Pont du Loc went through, however while I loved the movie Saving Private Ryan, but to me the ending was a copout. It made me feel cheap thinking that Private Ryan spends his entire life wondering whether the life he has led has been worth it. I would hope that if that many people die for one man, the guy never has to worry about which direction his life has led, and whether he has been worthy or not. Funny, from the people I have met in my life, especially the ones that I have known to spend much of their professional careers staring down the barrel of a gun, once you have been shot at and lived to tell others about it, one tends to spend far less time worrying about whether or not you are living your life well, one spends far more time LIVING.
The next category are those that never come home - at least in their heads. God bless those who can't get the images of horror to leave. Terror is a evil thing - I can't imagine ever being stuck in one hellhole in my head for the next twenty years. What is frustrating of course, is that while the WWII vets had to just deal with the terror and the anguish for the rest of their lives, resorting to alcohol, drugs, or even suicide to get the thoughts out of their heads, that every idiot out there that has seen a car wreck can now claim "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder" on their insurance claims.
Between the two extremes lie the rest of us - those that have participated in "battle" or the modern day version of it. Yes, we have been exposed to incoming mortar and may have been occasionally shot at, but for the most of us, war has been a positive, enlightening experience. You have no desire to go back, nor to foster war in and of itself, but if called yet again we will go. While I endured separation from my family, frustration with the tactics of the enemy, and dealing with my own mortality, never have I been with a group so positive, so motivated....so alive.
That is why I guess the press doesn't get it. Cindy Sheehan has given up and thrown in the towel - http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2007/5/28/12530/1525 - because her rallying cries to end war forever and "just get along" didn't work for her, much like they didn't calm the riots of LA when Rodney King made the same appeal. It is tough for the outsiders to understand - maybe the cancer survivors, or those who have in their own way cheated death come to realize, that the greatest gift we have is life itself. When we are willing to lay down our lives for our brothers, our country, or for our ideals and you are not called at the time you walk away with a better appreciation for the gift of life. For that matter, it sheds light on just how desperate and terrified our enemy must be to recruit suicide bombers - that their lives must be so horrible that they would rather die than live.
So, in retrospect, I guess that what this memorial day has been about is living - spent time with the family, took in a movie, cleaned the house in preparation for my folks to visit, and I ran. I ran to prepare myself for the marathon, but also ran to feel the blood pumping through my veins, the sweat pouring down my back, the aches of my legs as I head up the big hill in our neighborhood, and I ran to feel alive, to appreciate what I have been given, and to celebrate what those who are no longer with us have given us - the chance to be alive and free.