Tag Archives: running

A tourist’s impression of trees

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My husband and I headed to Kentucky this weekend to run a race – a 10K road race for me and a 60K (!) trail race for him. This was my first visit to Kentucky and my husband’s first stay there when he wasn’t just driving through from one state to another.

We ran in a beautiful National Recreation Area called Land Between the Lakes, and I was struck by how much beauty and grace trees lend to a landscape. Maybe I was thinking of the trees so much because I had a long wait for my husband to come through a path among the trees before he could head to the finish line.

I’d had enough time after my race to drive back to our hotel, shower, change and check out before heading back out to watch him finish. I waited at this final trail crossing/aid station for over an hour, grateful for having finished my race but also grateful for such a beautiful place to run. I was also happy to see little signs that spring was coming, the hint of color rising on the trees, a bit of green peeking through here and there. I also didn’t mind the wait because it’s always fun to see how different runners react when heading in to another loop or turning toward the finish.

I wasn't the only one waiting for a runner to come out of these woods.

I wasn’t the only one waiting for a runner to come out of these woods.

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A little green vine by the runners’ trail promised of spring coming soon.

When we drove through Land Between the Lakes the day before, we stopped at one of the visitor centers to walk around a bit. While there, we walked through a historical exhibit that spoke of the sacrifices of turning this area into a National Recreation Area. The Tennessee Valley Authority displaced whole communities to create this area, and though I’m glad for the beauty of the place, I know it didn’t come without great economic and emotional cost for those who lived here before.

From trail to traffic
After my husband finished his race, we headed for Nashville. Talk about a transition! We went from serene, quiet, tree-filled trails and small towns to really, really terrible traffic and the constant wail of car horns and sirens. We headed to the Ryman for a concert Saturday night, and the traffic on the way from our hotel left me saying, “I would not ever want to live here.”  Continue reading →

The obsession with our scales

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“I’m fat, and I need to lose weight,” she said. She was completely serious.

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I stood in front of her trying not to let my mouth hang open in amazement, trying desperately to find the right words for her in that moment. We had only just met a few minutes before, and here she was, sharing this anxiety with me. And because of the circumstances, I so desperately wanted my response to be right.

You see, she is a lovely elementary school girl – a thin, almost petite, elementary school girl.

I was the only one of her Girls on the Run coaches standing with her and her friend as we waited for the others to arrive for the first session of our season together. She was chatting away, telling me how excited she was to learn to run, “because my mom told me running would help me lose weight.”

Me: “Do you think that’s something you need to worry about?”
Her: “Yes. I’m fat, and I need to lose weight.”
Me: “I don’t think you need to lose any weight.”
Her friend: “Well, I know I need to lose weight.”
Me: “I don’t think any growing girl needs to worry about weight.”

Those were the words spoken out loud, but I wonder what was going on in the brains of the two girls as we stood together talking. Did the girl who brought up the subject want me to reassure her that she was thin and pretty? Did the one who stood by quietly wonder how best to support her friend and decided the best way was to answer, “Me, too”? Or did they both truly believe they are fat? Continue reading →

Running for an imperishable wreath

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When I was six years old, I held my mother’s hand while we gleefully smashed the tiny acorns that scattered the sidewalk in front of our church.

When Lopez Lomong was the same age, he was ripped from his mother’s tight grip, taken by soldiers from under the trees where his family and others from surrounding villages had been in prayer during a church service.

I was born in America. Lomong was born in southern Sudan (now South Sudan). To quote Robert Frost, “That has made all the difference.” It’s a difference I can’t begin to grasp.

Lomong is one of my Olympic heroes, representing the USA in two Olympics – in 2008 in Beijing where he also served as flag bearer in the opening ceremonies and again this past summer in London where he came in 10th in the 5,000 meter final. I feel blessed that I got to see him earn a spot on both the 2008 and 2012 teams, watching him race at the U.S. Olympic Track & Field Trials in Eugene, Ore.

Lomong runs a victory lap after winning a spot on the US Olympic team this past June in Eugene, Ore.

Lomong runs a victory lap after winning a spot on the US Olympic team this past June in Eugene, Ore.

Lomong’s story is nothing short of amazing: from being abducted by soldiers in war-torn Sudan to living in a refugee camp in Kenya for 10 years to a journey to the United States where he would become a citizen and live out his own version of the American dream while never forgetting the other boys and girls left behind in Sudan.

Lomong has shared his life – its struggles and triumphs – in a moving memoir published last year, called Running for My Life. Never has a book title been so accurate. Running saved his life.

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Lomong’s remarkable memoir of his life so far

Lomong’s book was one of the Christmas presents I gave my husband, and I read it right after he did, knowing that I needed to keep the kleenex nearby. I was still unprepared for how the book would affect me emotionally. Continue reading →

Running thoughts: hospitality, humility and humidity

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I really thought that here on the first Wednesday of October, I’d be waxing poetic about the joys of autumn, like the fabulous pumpkin chai I recently discovered at Caribou Coffee. (It’s really awesome, and if you like pumpkin or chai, you’ve gotta try it.)

Instead of writing about the delightful fall, though, I find myself astonishingly grateful for air-conditioning and an order from my doctor to take a week off from running. After all, a run right now would be more like swimming, only without the refreshing water part.

Many of us southern runners love autumn because it lacks the main summertime ingredient that causes us to struggle: humidity. We’ve survived the awful stuff all summer, and in many cases, fall is the time of year that we ramp back up with our running. We can add in more miles and even change up the time of day we run, simply because we’re no longer trying to dodge suffocating heat and humidity. But this week has felt more like late August or early September. Yesterday was so humid outside that the windows of my house fogged up (from the outside). With the start of fall, I thought I was done with tracking sweaty footprints across the floors, not to mention the drenched shoes and running clothes.

While out with my dog this morning, I found the humidity to be overwhelming. So I tried to turn my thoughts to a topic I’ve been working out for my most recent book chapter: hospitality. Do you mind if I revisit the topic? Continue reading →

Inexplicable joy

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Back when I was still working a regular desk job, one of my friends and I would skip lunch every now and then to go for a run together. Though we ran a similar pace, she always ran the downhills better than I did, while I could pass her on the uphills.

One of our coworkers was driving to lunch and saw us out running together, and she remarked, “There go Joy and Hope.” The other person in the car with her was incredulous, “You’re kidding, right?” To which our friend replied, “No. Those are my friends Hope and Joy.” I’ll pause for a moment for you to get all the punny little jokes out of your mind. … Joy and I are used to them. We even feel safe making fun of our own names with each other.

And that’s exactly what Joy did when our friend came back after lunch and told us the story. Joy said, “Yep. It was Joy on the downhills and Hope on the uphills.” Know what? I think she was more right in a deeper-meaning-kind-of-way than either of us realized at the time.

Whether it’s in running or any other aspect of life, the easy downhill parts can bring you great joy. And when you get to the tougher parts, the ones that require a different kind of strength to tackle, well, that’s where hope comes in.

There are plenty of times in our life when we expect joy: marriages, births, special celebrations, getting hired for our dream job, going on that long-anticipated vacation, snow days (well, here in the south, anyway). And, yes, even running down hills.

But I’ve found it’s the inexplicable moments of joy that are the loveliest. Continue reading →