Last summer, I taught my friend Allison how to run. She needed to learn because she had vowed to run for our friends at The Living Room, a community of compassionate care for the sick and dying in Kenya. So we set out, working a walk/run split, using each walk break to talk about the run ahead. Shoulders relaxed, breathe deep, stand tall. Ok, stand straight, because she is not exactly tall.
I’ve been sad to see how many women are afraid to run well. They girlie-fy their running to be cute. Cute running is never good running. Allison likes to be cute, but she learned to run like a runner, and she learned quick. She trained from two miles to nine in no time.
The baby who interrupted her training is now 5 months old. As I type this, Allison is back in Long Beach, bib pinned, shoes layed out, ready to run. And I am in Illinois, in the stinkin’ cold they call ‘fall.’ Ugh.
Near or far, my heart is with her as she runs. I am so proud, honored and grateful to have been part of preparing her for her big day tomorrow.