I know I have told you several times about my love for running and having to quit because of injured knees. I loved to run like I love to breathe. I learned to run before I learned to walk. In elementary school, I ran the fastest mile. During recess, no one would race me, because they knew I would win. I won most of the running related events at “Field Day.” I ran the 800 and the hurdles on the track team in middle school, and I was captain of my high school Cross Country team. I trained with the boys, and won lots of races. I ran road races, one in which I achieved my personal record and took home the first-place trophy now sitting on my desk at home. I went to running camps, and I ran on my own time. My dad used to say, “Run like the wind!” Running was a huge part of who I am, and a significant loss. Now I am left only with stories.
My family filmed most of my childhood, and my mom transferred all of the tapes to flash drives for each family member. I take good care of everything. I am organized. Sitting here right now, I know where that flash drive is without having to search. I have watched many of the videos. One of the segments was funny at first and heartbreaking toward the end. Mom focused the camera on a three-year-old Samantha, my teddy bear, and my friend, Cameron. The movie “ET” had just aired. Mom asked, “Samantha, what are you doing today?” I answered, “My name is not Samantha! My name is Elliott!” “Oh, I’m so sorry, Elliott! What are you going to do today?” Elliott answered, “I am going to run, and run, and run, and never stop.”