The Signs

I've always been open to signs, you know, like an answer to a meaningful question via the appearance of a rainbow, a bird crossing my path or something else that tells me what I need to know.  Though I'm open to signs, I can't think of a time when I actually had a meaningful sign. Until today. I found this rock, or chunk or concrete while I was running. I picked it up and ran home with it in my...

His Dad is a Runner

There have been ebbs and flows, months or years early on that I didn’t run, but for the most part I’ve been pounding pavement for the better part of thirty years as a runner. Running defines me. It is part of my person, who I am. As much as I am a wife, a mother, a, writer, a PR practitioner and a vegetarian, I am a runner. I run alone mostly, in the dark stillness before dawn. I run without...

Tolerance of Grief

Yesterday was the seventh anniversary of Noah's death. I admit, the pain of his loss isn't as acute as it was seven years ago. But still, when I think of him, I can feel the tightness in my throat and my eyes start to burn. And I think about him every single day. That's the reality of this kind of loss. The grief hangs on and on. It's become a part of me. As much as I am a writer, a runner, a...

Running and Writing

In September and October I ran two half marathons, one in Spring Lake, the other in Grand Rapids. I'm partial to this 13.1 mile distance for a couple of reasons. First, it takes me at least three miles to get warmed up. I hate 5k races for this reason. By the time I cross the finish line of a 5k I'm just getting started. Second, the 13.1 miles challenges me and gives me time to think. I don't run...