martinimade

Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective days mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch - either in illustration or word form - and the other would make a companion sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise might make both minds more nimble. Hopefully.

I keep reminding myself that it is not how far or how fast I run but the fact that I run at all. That ought to be enough. 

But in my mind, I dream of being Kenyan. After five gazelle-graceful miles I’ve only broken a sweat. At ten, which I stride through with soft footfalls, my feet making less noise than a leaf on the wind, I’m finding my groove and could go for 20 miles more.

But I am not a Kenyan. I am an overweight 40-year old whose ragged breathing and thudding strides alert all to my passing. I do not glide. Those who’ve seen me after a run fear for my well-being. I’m doing my best to make peace with my non-Kenyan-ness, even though it also makes me mad.

But I run, regardless.