Mississippi isn’t known for its smooth roads, but potholes matter far less when you’re running. You can easily maneuver the adversity on foot.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if all of life’s struggles could be resolved so effortlessly?
Tag: Running
My Motherhood, My New Self
When I was growing up, I was ridiculed for being too thin – too imperfect by the world’s standards. But, in college, I came into my own (even if my tank top choices were questionable). And, for the first time, I loved the skin I was in.
The Great American Family Road Trip [2017]: Day 2
Human beings are funny creatures. Even at 10 p.m. on vacation, I found myself running on a treadmill last night.
In my defense, we spent most of our second day on the road in the car. Again.
But in the 20 minutes I spent exercising alone, I enjoyed the kind of reflection that comes when you don’t hear a child breathing (i.e. whining) for the first time all day.
Continue reading “The Great American Family Road Trip [2017]: Day 2”
Two Miles
The Gratitude Gospel: Day 12
My husband is traveling for the week, which means one thing: my children have become savages.
Corny Trade-Offs
The Gratitude Gospel: Day 6
“What do you do all day?!”
It’s a question I was asked when I was a stay-at-home mom. It’s a question I’m still asked during my summer hiatus from teaching.
To be fair, I used to be just as curious.
There Is No Finish Line
Few things liberate the soul quite like a good run. For myself, four miles is the “Zen zone” – the magical point at which surroundings fade and stress melts. And this is how I was enticed to run my first half-marathon. Only 9 more miles, right?
I prepared myself as any athlete might. Morning and evening stretches. Ice after long runs. And caffeinated GU – the chocolate variety.
But, come race day, the obstacles weren’t at all what I expected. Amazingly, I paced one minute faster than my training (8:13) for the entire race. When the finish line finally entered my sights, less than half of a mile stood between my sneakers and victory.
In the last few miles, a strange thought struck me. I hadn’t seen another female runner in a while. But this was a public race, and it was 2011.
And, just like that, I hit my second wind and felt the release to sprint.
Only I didn’t expect what came next. I was tripped. I was pushed. I was cursed. It seemed that every man I attempted to pass in that final stretch demanded I take the path of increased resistance.
Was it jealousy? Perhaps.
Was it anger? In some instances.
Was it sexism? This one still lingers.
Fields of Gold
Long before I was a mother, I was a runner. On April 15, 2007, exactly nine years ago today, I completed my first 5k. It was a windy and hilly race for which I was not conditioned, and, due to low runner turnout, I actually managed to get lost in the barren fields of early Virginia spring.
I crossed the finish line with a three-minute, don’t-follow-the-sorority-girl-who-is-lost delay. My legs, already jelly, would struggle to move the next morning.
I will never forget the innocence of that day.
The Last Eleven Pounds
When I stare into the mirror, I see an inflated version of myself. Eleven pounds – to be exact – have been added. At times, I struggle to recognize this latest reflection of myself. She looks tired.
As I write this, it is approximately 10:42 p.m., and my body wants to run. I have eaten calories that need to be burned. And yet, I am readying myself for bed. Sleep trumps fitness and any neurotic weight concerns that I may have.
The children will need my energy and, more importantly, an agreeable mood tomorrow.
