Not a running blog per se…

No miles since Sunday, but today is Day 2 without a sore knee—Hoorah! This, combined with the beautiful weather, may mean some delicious miles through Southie tonight. I know, I know, good choices mean cross-training on some metal and plastic machine of doom and dullness inside the sunless claustrophobia of a gym while listening to Madonna and Britney Spears dances remixes….but my SOUL NEEDS IT. J

I received this email from Kate yesterday (subject line: an excerpt you might appreciate):

This was at the end of a running blog I read today. The writer's friend was really sick after a recent race and this was the writer's message:

I am a runner.
This has nothing whatsoever to do with race results, placings, PR's, split times, training programs, gender, age, racing schedule, weekly mileage, or pace bands. This has to do with something deep, something tender, something profound, something powerful and something untouchable about who we are in our hearts. This is why we recognize each other, on the road or in coffee shops, and we nod and smile. This is why we are never alone, even if we are training far from our hometown or way outside our comfort zone. Even if no other "I am" statement feels good about our life at the moment, we always have that one.

I have no doubt that Katie will regain her health and her strength. Likely she will be able to eat something besides brown rice and run around her block rather than walk, hopefully with me and Paige by her side. Sweetheart, in the meantime, you are not left out or left behind. You are simply pacing yourself. What I want to tell Katie, and anyone else out there struggling with injury, illness, delay, or disappointment of any kind is that even if you are healing or taking time off... you are still, and always, a runner.

Kate followed up with a second message (subject line: I should have my head examined):

this stuff is making me get all teary:

"Never in my life, before running, did I ever push hard after something that did not rank high on the list of things that come easily to me. I have always aspired to/excelled at things that I was already good at. This probably stems from fear, pride, laziness or some perfection compulsion; my priest or therapist would know for sure. But running isn't like that for me. It's hard for me. I struggle. I suffer. I get discouraged. I get mad. I celebrate, sometimes. And when I chase after Paige, Katie or any other zippy friend, it's not because I suck, it's because they don't. Running for Paige is one of her passions, one of her God-given talents, as natural for her as nursing a baby or riding a horse bareback. It isn't one of mine, and that is okay with me (or will be as soon as this epiphany sinks in), because I love it anyway...I just love it differently than she does. I love it the way you love a rivalrous sibling, deep tissue massage, a session with your therapist, giving birth, or a big fight with someone you love. It doesn't always feel good in the moment, but ultimately you are a better person for it."

Me too, Kate, me too.

Only a little over a month to go now…