I learned last night that a core member of the weekly Pub Runs here in Lewisburg died this weekend after hitting some black ice. I am still in a state of shock and disbelief. I only knew Daryn for a few months, and rarely saw him outside of the weekly runs (and subsequent beer-drinking), but you get to know a lot about a person when you run and drink beer together once a week. He often brought his dog to the runs, and she would dictate our pace for the first mile or more, straining at the leash and pulling us forward, her excited yelps alerting people that we were coming.
I last saw Daryn a week ago at the last Pub Run. He brought Chester home after the run, and then returned to the Pub to have a few beers. And he brought me a Christmas present. It was completely unexpected, but he handed me a bottle of whiskey, Jameson Black Barrel. We had drank some together on a different night at the Pub, and he said he remembered that I had liked it. It was such an unexpected and thoughtful gesture.
I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that he is gone. It's so hard to believe that he won't be standing at the meeting spot with Chester yipping at the top of her lungs when I show up for the run this evening, or future evenings. His enthusiasm and general cheeriness will be sorely missed at the weekly runs. My heart goes out to his family, who now must face the holidays without him.