Crossing the Line
Ultrarunner Adam Campbell on Losing his Wife, Laura Kosakoski
Around noon on January 10, I stood on top of a slope on the south shoulder of Mount Hector in Banff National Park and watched an avalanche slide at my feet. My wife, Laura Kosakoski (“L .K.” or “Kos” to friends), was at the bottom of the slope and was buried. My partner and I did what we could to rescue her, but she passed away the following evening.
The months since L .K.’s passing have been the hardest of my life. The grieving process has been made doubly hard by the coronavirus appearing a couple of months later, closing down social support and changing life even more.
To really give yourself to and love someone is to make yourself vulnerable to pain. Those two elements co-exist, and despite the indescribable pain and sadness that I am feeling, I wouldn’t change my time with L .K. for the world.
She encouraged me not to brush off what I was feeling. Because of her, I learned how not to be afraid or ashamed of fear, not to be afraid of pain and to accept love. She opened up a soft spot in my heart and she changed my life. She let herself be vulnerable to me too, and through that, we found ourselves in each other and our lives blossomed together. Because she opened my heart, she showed me how to see beauty all around me. She allowed me to feel deeply and passionately, and every experience I’ve had since then has been richer for it. Because of the lessons I learned from her, we shared a lifetime of memories and experiences in only a few short years. We tried to live a life of love, curiosity, adventure, passion, kindness, happiness and conviction together. We tried to guide, encourage and support each other along that road. None of that would have happened if we hadn’t allowed ourselves to open up to one another. We fought hard to honour that, because it does take work, but we both recognized that the effort is worth it.
L.K. used to say (very much tongue-incheek) that “training is cheating,” and although she never trained per se, there was nothing she loved more than moving fast outside in the mountains, and she was better at it than most. Although she grew up playing hockey, making it to the position of assistant captain on the University of British Columbia women’s varsity hockey team, she was also incredibly proficient in the mountains. She finished on the podium at ultramarathons in China and Guatemala, and set numerous fastest known times ( fkts) in the Canadian Rockies. She did all this with skill, humility and joy.
We travelled extensively during our time together, racing across mountains in our backyard in and around Canmore and across the globe, from West Africa and South America to the Dolomites, the Alps and the Himalaya.
As a family physician in Canmore, L .K. treated her patients with compassion and skill and, although her career was brief, it was widely and deeply felt. Her kindness, wisdom and infectious laugh left a deep and lasting impression on the lives she touched. She cared deeply for her family and friends, messaging daily with her mum and brother, and was deemed a “best bud” by all who knew her intimately.
Some time ago, L .K. wrote a note to herself that contained her guiding principle, one that’s been attributed to many different authors: “Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind, always.” Laura’s life embodied this principle like few others’.
While she left us far too young, if you measure a life by its stories rather than its years, L .K. led an unmistakably long and passionate life. Her example will forever inspire the lives touched by this unique and precious soul.
We have created a saying to immortalize her: “Just be Kos” – live your life with passion, integrity, curiosity, fun and love. The next time you question whether or not to go on a trip, sign up for a race, call a friend or are facing a hard life choice, remember to “Just be Kos” – do the thing and make the right choice!