I have never been much of a runner, let alone a long-distance runner. Still, the title of Alan Sillitoe’s rather sad short story, “The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner,” has become a metaphor for my current mental state. I am the runner at my wife’s side as she sinks into deep dementia. The long distance is the 7 or 8 long years of my run so far, and the loneliness is the painful feeling of the loss of my intimate other. It is hard to describe this feeling because it is not constant. It is a form of sadness, yet I don’t feel self-piteous or depressed.
Read More