I Run for Boston

This week has undeniably been an emotional week. Regardless of whether you are from Boston or are a runner, the tragedies of this week have impacted everyone. 

Running for me has always been an escape, a "place" where anyone can be anything they want, or dream, to be. It's where I wrestle with bad days and tough situations and it's how I stay grounded when things get stressful. When I came home from work on Monday to see images of the world famous Boston Marathon and heard how an event that celebrates average people doing incredible things was shattered, it left my heart broken for so many different people and reasons. It was just pure unfair. How do we grapple with these things that happen for, really, no good reason? Where can we go to let our guard down and just be, when the one place I've always been able to go feels tainted? 

Sindy sent me an article written by Matt Frazier from No Meat Athlete that helped me to begin to make sense of my emotions. I shared it with other runners who I knew would appreciate having their same feelings expressed so well, knowing we weren't alone. Maybe it's because I never played a team sport growing up, but I love the sense of community there is in what is typically considered a individual sport. 

I was unsure about how to proceed the rest of the week. We've all been affected in our own ways. I feel slightly uneasy about loudly proclaiming my love, and just as Frazier noted, I wonder how I can run for people I don't even know. Nevertheless, we have all been impacted by these events, and I knew I had to just run to sort through and process it all. On Wednesday, I finally did that.

It was raining on and off during the run, which felt just right. While I think often about the impact running has had on my life, I thought about more than just that...about the connections and the kindness it brings into the world, about how so many people have already committed themselves to ensuring that the Boston Marathon is not synonymous with terror or bombing, but with love, dedication, and community, declaring that they will run it next year. 

I've always loved a Kara Goucher quote about how running allows us to see how wonderful life is....and while it feels wrong to say it, I guess that's what this run did too. We will never forget the horrific acts of that day, but we cannot give up and be defeated. We must dust ourselves off and keep going to prove that we won't let acts of terror and violence dictate our lives. 

Three Years!

This week marks the third anniversary of my running/blogging - wow! This chance to reflect on the impact running has had on my life has been important. As always, life gets so busy, and it's easy to make excuses. I don't just mean excuses to not work out, but excuses to cut out things that are important to us, just because they're not linked to work or "being productive." When there's an endless list of things to do, it's easy to drop off the "me" time, which for me, is really what running is.

Yesterday, I ran in my first 10k and it was great! In a nearly game day decision, Ryan decided to run with me and it made what could have been a cold and nerve-wrecking race fun and fast. At one point along the route, we were running behind two older women who had just connected while running. One of them may have had headphones in (or was just really loud), so it was easy to follow their conversation. It went something like this:


Lady 1: There you are! I was looking for you all morning.
Lady 2: Hi! Good to see you. Keep going. I don't want to hold you back.
Lady 1: No, don't be silly. I'm staying with you. I want to run together.
Lady 2: No, No. Go ahead. 
Lady 1: I don't want to go ahead. I want to run this with YOU!! 

This doesn't even do the scenario justice - it was perfect. People run for so many different reasons and whether or not one of those reasons involves other people, the camaraderie and relationships built and strengthened out on the road are truly priceless. I've gotten so much out of running, but when I think about the runs I've shared with friends, I am so thankful for this extra time together. I have no doubt that I wouldn't feel the way I do about running if it weren't for them - thank you!

After the 10k yesterday, we went to see David Sedaris speak/read and it was awesome. He was hilarious, and aside from being unable to walk after from my knees being so tight, it was a lot of fun. After his reading, he took questions from the audience and someone asked how touring had impacted his self-confidence and ego. He talked about how while at first he loved the applause and positive reinforcement from his audiences, he quickly realized how easy it was to dismiss this praise - "Oh what do they know?!" He talked about how being a writer from The New Yorker was what really solidified his feelings about and confidence in his work. Regardless of what people said, no one, not even he, could deny the fact that his work was good enough for The New Yorker. 

I immediately related to this. It's so easy to dismiss praise and compliments from others if we don't believe in ourselves. While I pride myself on being self-reflective, it's a challenge to avoid being my harshest critic, overlooking what is undeniably there. Thinking about this, I decided to see how much I had run over these past three years. Aside from a few indoor runs on the track, most of my runs have been logged through a few different apps/devices, so I set out to collect and crunch the numbers. The purpose isn't to boast or brag, but to give myself solid evidence that even I couldn't dispute. 

And now I have it. In three years, I've run 1179 miles over 270 runs - WHAT! That's nearly the equivalent of running from my current apartment in Michigan to my old one in Philadelphia....and then back to Michigan. My relationship with running is still far from perfect - I still dread, avoid, and skip runs. I still struggle to find the motivation to get out the front door. I still have days where something I've done dozens of times feels like it's the first time. Nevertheless, the time I've put into running over the past three years has had an incredible impact on my life and who I am. For me, running is more than one foot in front of the other. It's all the things that come along with it - the memories, friendships, accomplishments. It's the new places I've seen and the old places I've seen in a new light. Here's to another wonderful year of all these great things....and some running too :O).

Zoom In, Zoom Out

When I was landing in New Orleans on Tuesday morning, I loved the chance to test my geographical knowledge of a city I have now spent a significant amount of time visiting. The curves of the Mississippi can make navigating New Orleans a challenge for out-of-towners, so it was exciting to be able to local certain landmarks and neighbors in the area as we began our descent.

On the occasion that a city’s airport is actually near that city, it’s a good feeling to be able to identify certain sites and appreciate a familiar place from a new perspective. As we began to near New Orleans, I realized that my two favorite ways to see both my favorite cities and new places are completely the opposite – from the air and on foot.

On several trips down to New Orleans specifically, I’ve had the chance to run in different parts of the city. When I visited with my family a few years ago, an early morning run that looped through some downtown neighborhoods left me a much better understanding of what was what and how it all connected. When I went back last summer, I was able to explore even more parts of the greater city, seeing things I most likely wouldn’t have had the chance to if I weren’t running it.

Seeing cities from the air can be the same thing. You see them in a different way – who knew there were so many pools around here? – and the big picture provides you with a much different feeling than when you’re up close.

I think about my relationship with Philly, a city I feel so connected to, but in a unique way, having not grown up there. I can easily think of a handful of routes I’ve run throughout Philly – our usual jams in Manayunk, running up JFK through Love Park and to the Art Museum, the Independence circuit, tackling the Ben Franklin Bridge, crossing the East Falls Bridge, the Kelly Drive loop – and I feel all warm and fuzzy. I am grateful that I have not only spent time doing things in these places, but having run them makes that connection stronger. While I no longer know all the curves of Kelly Drive, I am confident that running was an avenue for me to get to know the city better, both on a geographically surface level and on an I-love-everything-about-you level.

No longer living in Philly, I not only love going back, but I love flying back (especially since it means 10 less hours in the car). The airport is in the perfect location for me to see it all in one big, beautiful picture. While I know and love all the separate parts, when I see the whole city together as one frame, it feels like a deep, fulfilling exhale. I guess it’s hard to explain if you don’t love places like I do, almost like they’re people, but just as our relationships with people grow as we do more together, so do our relationships with places. Seeing them from different angles – by foot or by plane – can add to our appreciation, and deepen our love.

Taking Risks

Good morning from high above somewhere in Pennsylvania! I’m en route to New Orleans via Cleveland and after indulging in some back issues of Runner’s World during takeoff, have decided to update the old blogaroo.

Spring break started last week and I feel so fortunate to have this built-in time to visit with family and friends, both locally and back home. Without the stress of work looming over me, I feel more at ease to go out with friends and enjoy being in the moment, something I struggle with at times on a day-to-day basis. This time with people I care about has allowed for many conversations with loved ones and while they spanned topics and level of seriousness, I noticed a common thread popping up in many of them: taking risks.

When I started running and “racing” (the act of running in races) just about three years ago, I was terrified. I knew it was a huge risk to not only set out to achieve such a huge goal, but to incorporate so many people who mattered so much me. I started blogging about running and through fundraising for the Serious Fun Network, worked hard to spread the word about what I was doing. When for the first time ever, I was running 4-11 mile training runs, it was constantly a thought in my mind that I had a lot to lose if I couldn’t accomplish what I set out to – time, confidence, face. When I think back to that first half-marathon and take the time to relive those feelings, I don’t question for a moment if the risks I took in committing to a half-marathon were worth it. The high of the day and the rush of every part of it were invaluable.

As I reflect on conversations I’ve had these past few days in particular, both with others and with myself, I think about how the fear of taking risks can control us. We are afraid of the unknown so it’s normal to want to play it safe, but when I think about what there is to gain, the picture changes. Instead of jumping off a cliff, it feels more like a roller coaster. When we choose to care about someone or something else (such as rooting a college basketball team and immediately feeling sick with nerves, hypothetically speaking of course), commit to a race or physical challenge, or apply for a new job or position, it’s scary. The fear of the unknown makes taking risks a mind game, but we must think about the benefits of doing so. Some races won’t go the way I want, relationships may cause us pain or grief, obstacles we set out to conquer may leave us on the wrong side of the mountain, but instead of focusing on what might not be, I think we need to focus on what can be. In a world of half-full and half-empty, it’s been proven that a positive, optimistic attitude can yield better results – results that might not be possible if you never dare to dream.

In the roller coaster of life, maybe all we can do is be our own biggest cheerleader, thrive off the high of the peaks in the ride, and remember that after the clink-clink-clink of the incline and the stomach-in-your-throat feeling of the fall, we almost are always ready to push through the turn-style and ride it again.