Author: stephsimply

Running Free

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

How Jeff Galloway’s run-walk-run method helped me become a runner—and find joy along the way

“I hear the music. I feel the beat. And for a moment… I am free…”—Florence + the Machine

🌿Finding My Rhythm on Tobacco Road

I was running along the rolling, pine-scented path of the American Tobacco Trail (ATT), a rail-to-trail near Cary, NC, as part of the Tobacco Road Marathon/Half-Marathon. The air was brisk, and the sun had just begun its ascent. Shards of brilliant light cut through towering pine trees. The race was promoted as “fast and flat” with its gentle ascents and descents. At the start, thousands of runners packed tightly together, jostling and elbowing forward. By mid-race, I settled into a steady rhythmic cadence, independent of those around me. As “Free” by Florence + the Machine began to play in my ear, I felt “free,” lit from within. In that moment, I realized that feeling was not accidental—it was learned–taught and modeled by one of the best.

Map of the Tobacco Road Half Marathon course, showing the route with mile markers, water stops, spectator parking, and medical aid stations. Includes an elevation profile at the bottom.
Screenshot of the Tobacco Road Marathon.

Who Gets to Call Themselves a Runner?

While I would never describe myself as an athlete, I have tried to be active and exercise throughout my adult years. Aerobics, step-aerobics, biking, walking, hiking, weight lifting, and yoga have all been activities I have returned to over the decades. However, running seemed intimidating. I equated it with those who were “naturally athletic,” fast, long-legged, and thin. I believed running was for those who could run seemingly effortlessly, without walking, for 30–60 minutes or longer. It was a barrier I tried to overcome, but felt like I repeatedly “failed.” Then, I read about something called the run-walk-run method, originated by Jeff Galloway, and all of the intimidation and barriers appeared, from the outside, surmountable. 

💡A Different Way to Begin

Galloway, a former Olympic runner (1972) was the founder of the first specialty running shoe store. Through his books, classes, workshops, training camps, and destination races across the U.S. and around the world, he expounded and demonstrated the benefits of his run-walk-run method, or “jeffing,” as it is sometimes fondly called. His empowering, emphatic message that not only are walk breaks permitted, but encouraged, redefined what it meant to be a runner. If you ran ten seconds, walked five minutes, and then ran 10 more seconds, whether you repeated it once or several times, you were a runner. 

A large crowd of participants and spectators gathered at an outdoor event, with banners and a timer displaying '2:26:06' in the background, near a finish line.
Whether walking, running, or run/walk/running, everyone still has to complete the same distance and cross the same finish line!

🔄Learning to Run—One Interval at a Time

His gentle message—consistency over intensity—resonated with me—and I am certain I am not the only one. His positive and encouraging tone convinced me to start with a run-walk-run interval plan that I could maintain for 30 minutes, and repeat three days per week. Each successive week, I ran a bit longer and walked a bit less. From there, I built gradually. Galloway, for me, and I daresay for hundreds of thousands more around the world, didn’t just change how I approached running—he freed me to change how I think about running. 

🚶‍♀️➡️🏃‍♀️From Walking to Running

Like countless others who encountered Galloway’s message, I gradually shifted from mostly walking, to equal parts walking and running, to the present day—mostly running. (And I still give myself permission to take walk breaks as needed.) 

Letting Go of What I Thought Running “Should” Be

This incremental shift, spread out over months, increased my self-assurance (thinking of myself more often as a runner) and made running feel sustainable. Galloway’s method allowed me to discover enjoyment, replacing what had once felt like pressure about how I believed running “should” be. I suspect I am not the only one who found the door to running opened, not by pushing harder, but by being allowed to ease in. 

🎧✨The Moment It All Came Together

As I continued to pace along the Tobacco Road Half-Marathon route, listening to the music, I could feel my feet matching the cadence of the beat. My heartbeat was steady and my breathing deepened, but I was calm. It was as if in that moment, body, mind, and spirit aligned, and I felt free. I had a sense that “I can do hard things.” This is what Galloway’s message ultimately conveys—however we define “hard.”

🕊️A Legacy That Lives On

Galloway and his wife, Barb, practiced what he preached for over 50 years until his untimely passing in February of this year at the age of 80. His legacy, however, will live on through everyday runners. Those runners who, like me, now have access to a sport once considered undoable. He provided a path to longevity in the sport, and the chance to taste the freedom that comes from enjoying the experience rather than attaching to a certain performance.  

A smiling woman with glasses and a cap gives a thumbs-up gesture in a crowd of runners at night, with other participants blurred in motion around her.
If you are moving forward, you belong!

🌱The Quiet Confidence of Belonging

As I witnessed countless participants take walk breaks in the Tobacco Road Marathon/Half-Marathon, I sensed that Galloway’s legacy isn’t just in the finish lines. Rather, it’s in the unassuming confidence of runners who finally believe they belong. It is a quiet kind of wonder.

👟An Invitation to Begin

To anyone reading this who thinks they are “not a runner,” are beginners, or feel intimidated by pace, age, or comparison, I invite you to try it. Start with a walk that includes short bouts of slow, controlled running. 10–30 seconds is enough. Take a walk break. Take as many as you need. Start where you are. You don’t have to run without stopping to be a runner—you just have to begin. And if you listen, really listen—you just might find, somewhere along the way—maybe even on the ATT—that you’re free too. 

🌅Running Free

May we carry Galloway’s rhythm forward—one run, one walk break, one brave, freeing step at a time.

A smiling older man wearing a cap and light-colored jacket gives a thumbs-up gesture outdoors, surrounded by trees during dusk.
Thank you, John, for your never ending love and support of my running adventures!

When a Stranger Helped Me Pick Up the Pieces

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

Sometimes the most meaningful acts of kindness come from strangers we may never see again.

❄️ The “Perfect Storm” at the Grocery Store

It was another cold, snowy morning with another round of snow on its way. School had been cancelled for the day, and I thought I would be “smart” by driving to the grocery store early. Surely no one else would do that ahead of the snow. They would have done their shopping last night, right?

Pulling into the parking lot, snow piles—peppered with dirt and debris—blocked several parking spots. Light snow sprinkled down from an angry sky darkened by winter’s wrath once again. It was a Friday, the first of the month, so I should have known that despite the early hour, few parking spots were available. Then it hit me: big-game weekend.

🛒 The Cart with the Stubborn Wheel

Once parked, it was a “perfect storm” inside the store. 80s pop music attempted to brighten the mood. Harsh fluorescent lighting contrasted the outside winter skies.  Paper ads of this week’s specials fluttered in the air as the double doors whooshed open and closed repeatedly. The only cart available was a small cart, which was perfect for my needs. The only problem? It had a front wheel that did not roll properly. 

I quickly attempted to push it. After all, I only needed a few items, but that stubborn wheel kept sticking, making corners especially difficult to turn. Nonetheless, I found a way to, well, get it rolling, and attempted to weave in and out through the throngs of dilly-dallying people and displays. 

I reminded myself of the mission since I had already “researched” prices online: Stick to the list organized by aisle numbers. Get in and get out quickly. Online work awaited me at home, and snowfall had already started. I told myself to slow down, but I kept my pace up anyway.

📦 When Everything Came Crashing Down

And, of course, it happened. The wheel stuck right as I tried to turn a corner. It was like a bad slow-mo scene from an old black-and-white B-movie. I tried to stop it, then catch it, but it wasn’t enough. An entire cardboard display–stockpiling the greatest hits of pharmacy specials—began to crumble to the floor.

 I stumbled, fumbled, and bumbled with individual boxes of pain relievers, antacids, toothpaste, vitamins, and cold/flu care items. Embarrassment colored my cheeks and a sensation of shame sent waves of heat through my body as my heart began to race. I was a child again, and it was “all my fault.” “You should have known better, Steph” echoed in my mind. I tried to work quickly, but my hands were as clumsy and klutzy as that misbehaving wheel. 

🤝 The Kindness of a Stranger

Then, I sensed a presence. I gazed up from a squat position on the floor and there stood a young woman with large expressive eyes. Her kindness was palpable as she stooped down beside me. Her long fingers worked with calm, coordinated dexterity, and she began to help me. I began to protest that it was “my mess,” not her responsibility. Her hands continued to work with precision, and she met my gaze, declaring that it was only cardboard–“no big deal.” 

The display was like putting together a 3-D jigsaw puzzle. Nonetheless, my heart slowed with the gentleness of her response. When we were finished, we each had a few items left over in our hands with no more room on the cardboard shelves. The unknown woman flipped her long chestnut hair over her shoulder and gave an unexpected child-like giggle. In a conspiratorial voice, she directed us to “put the rest of the items here.” It was on a shelf of an endcap of laundry detergent, beads, and dryer sheets.

She winked. “It makes about as much sense as this random display.” 

I thanked her profusely, but she waved me off with an it-was-nothing expression.

❄️ A Snowflake Memory

When my daughter was quite young, I recall playing with her, gleeful and reveling in the snow. “Catching” snowflakes on her mitten was a favorite activity. Time fell away as delicate flakes alighted onto our upturned mittens. There was a silent wonder that muted even the beating of our hearts as we gazed at each individual snowflake. “Look, Mommy, look!” she would say as slowly each snowflake melted into the fabric of our mittens, leaving only a whisper of a mark.

The woman escaped as quickly as she appeared. For a fleeting moment I was back in the snowy front yard with my daughter, silence filled my ears as the warmth of her generosity lingered within me. Then, just as quickly the milieu of the store came back into focus: the buzzing lights, calls for help up front, the throngs of people with party trays, beer, and bread, and another 80s be-bop song played in the background. 

With a warmed and lightened spirit, I trooped off to gather the few items remaining on my list. Of course, my cart still had the broken wheel, and it was still hard to maneuver it through crowded aisles and endcaps. Still, I was able to get the rest of my items without incident. 

How many of us navigate life’s challenges with little vulnerabilities wobbling within us like that shopping cart wheel?  Helping hands are seldom asked for, but often needed in a hurried and harried world.

🌊 The Ripple Effect of Kindness

A week or so later, when I visited the same store, I noticed a woman struggling to reach an item from her motorized shopping cart. One of her legs was in a boot—her current wobbly wheel. As I offered to help her, I was reminded of the helping hand that lifted me up during one of life’s storms and sensed the rippling waves of one person’s ordinary kindness.

Kindness, generosity, and brief moments of courage—these are the connections that steady us when life turns snowy and cold and hands us a cart with a wobbly wheel. 

Rolling from the Bottom: Lessons from the Long Run

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

Starting with a Budget of Energy

Piles of dirty snow still littered the brown grass around me. But unlike the previous week, I glided with more freedom over the cleared blacktop path. Temperatures rose from breath-visible mid-20s to the high-30s. As my muscles warmed, sweat began to blossom. I shed my top-layer and tossed it into the hatch of my vehicle, switching from my thermal hat to a lighter ball cap. 

“Manage that energy,” I reminded myself. Long training runs are like rolling a tube of toothpaste from the bottom–energy measured, not spent. There are more miles to go. Let it last. 

Lessons from a Tube of Toothpaste

As the oldest of four kids, I recall our family’s early years. Our budget was tight. Even as careers progressed, resources had to be carefully managed in a house of six.

“Roll the toothpaste from the bottom,” and remember, “a little dab will do you.” The tube had to last for all of us. Payday wasn’t here yet. I didn’t understand it then, but that toothpaste was not just about toothpaste. It was so much more.

The Micro-Decisions That Shape the Finish

As part of my marathon training, my Saturday run was 15 miles long. I could not squeeze out all of my energy in the beginning. I started low and slow, especially since I knew the temperatures would change so drastically over the course of the morning. This meant dressing in layers and removing those layers early enough to not get overheated. I also had to adhere to a fueling schedule to ensure I was taking in enough calories and electrolytes. Running long distances, I have learned, is not about speed–thank heavens for me. It’s about managing limited energy over time–and isn’t that like life? 

In order to finish a marathon, my previous fall marathon experience taught me that it is the micro-decisions that shape the finish line outcome. Energy to cross the finish line requires a well-managed budget. Hundreds of choices are made throughout the hours it takes to run 26.2 miles. Do I push now? Do I hold back longer? Do I fuel now? Do I hydrate now? Do I adjust my clothing? All of these decisions affect my budget. These decisions are tiny, almost invisible acts of stewardship–the careful and responsible management of resources entrusted to one’s care, as defined by the Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

The finish line is often decided in the first miles. Not in drama, but in restraint. Let it last.

Training for More Than Race Day

I am budgeting so that 10–20 years down the road I can get up off the floor without help, walk up steps, move for fun (dancing, anyone?), carry groceries, and maybe one day carry a grandchild. Running, and other forms of exercise, are part of those short-term goals on the journey of healthspan—not just living long, but living well into later years. In that sense, marathon training becomes a microcosm of life itself: we are learning how to sustain it.

The Long Tube of Life

Healthspan is a long tube as it were. We don’t know how much time is left. We don’t know the “weather” ahead of us. We don’t know when “payday” will come. Overspending energy early often has consequences. Neglect compounds, but discipline compounds. Strength builds gradually.

The body is a tube we do not get to replace. We have to plan with care.

Of course, sometimes it is hard to remain slowly steadfast. There are times in life when we “squeeze” too hard, trying to force something to happen. It’s understandable. We want to feel in control, but the truth is control is an illusion. 

When Life Requires More Than a “Dab”

However, there are situations over which we do have control. There are seasons, in a manner of speaking, of expenditure, when life requires more than a “dab” from us. We have times when focused efforts and long hours are required. Sometimes urgency is required; deadlines must be met. Even then, we don’t waste; we choose. Life is precious. Let it last.

Strength That Lasts

When we are young, we think strength is “squeezing hard.” We believe, fostered by societal influence, that we are measured and rewarded based on how quickly, how often, and how hard we squeeze. Over time, though, we learn that strength increases, as does contentment, when we squeeze life’s tube wisely. When we create a life budget, and based upon it, gather our provisions– our life skills–we can practice appropriate stewardship of the life we have been given. Strength comes from preparation, discipline, and patience. 

Finishing the Miles Well

Maybe finishing well isn’t about having more, but managing what we have been given with joy. We don’t want to rush to finish the tube quickly only to discover there are no refills. In the end, it is worth patiently striving to make our one sweet tube of life last, so we still have something to give and share during our final miles. And may those final miles count.  

I Don’t Know Where I’m Going, But I’m Following My Map: How discipline, values, and small steps help us move forward without certainty

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

When a Casual Comment Becomes a Lifeline

I was briefly chatting with my brother, Scott, a few months ago while he was driving through an unfamiliar town for a job interview. He was using a maps app to help him navigate, and I could hear the navigation system giving him verbal directions. Scott laughed and said, “I don’t know where I am going, but I’m following my map.” 

I teasingly told him that I was stealing that line–it sounded like an earworm lyric from a pop song, the kind that gets stuck in your head after hearing it once. Turns out, the line did stick with me, though not as a song. Instead, it became a phrase of comfort when answers to life’s questions felt far away. As I repeated it to myself, I realized that–contrary to what popular self-help and purpose-driven culture often suggests–we are frequently moving forward without clarity. And that’s okay.

The Maps We Follow in different seasons of life

The maps we use in life vary depending on the season we’re in, and they’re often shaped by our current goals. There are personal, professional, or inner-life maps to guide us: growth plans, workout schedules, work routines, creative practices, calendars, and goals of all kinds.

Listening to the Inner Compass

Alongside these maps, we possess an inner compass. This compass is rooted in our values. It helps us recognize which actions and choices align with who we are, and it often points us to what brings us meaning or joy. When we allow our inner compass to work in tandem with our life maps, even when neither promises certainty, they can still guide us forward. 

Why Consistency Matters More Than Certainty

As a runner training for a spring marathon, I rely on a training plan, a literal map. It requires me to show up even on those single-digit mornings when motivation is low. I trust this plan, knowing that it’s probably not perfect. Still, it moves me forward mile by mile. I do not need to know how strong I’ll feel weeks from now; I only need to follow today’s plan, step by step.

The same is true for maps focused on career progression, creative pursuits, and even healing journeys. Momentum is built through consistency, not certainty.

Progress Isn’t Linear

That momentum rarely moves in a straight line. It builds, rises, dips, and rebuilds again. It reminds me of using a navigation system that reroutes unexpectedly–or worse, sends me off at the wrong exit. Getting back on course can feel like a setback, even when it isn’t.

This mirrors life. Not every day is joyful. Some days are ordinary. Others are heavy and disappointing. Forward movement does not guarantee constant and abundant happiness. Sometimes, in order to recognize how far we’ve come, we have to pause long enough to feel gratitude for the distance already traveled. We also need to notice subtle signs of progress–the quiet evidence that we are, in fact, moving forward. 

At other times, we are nudged towards redirections. These reroutes aren’t a sign of failure; they’re simply adjustments–responses to the curveballs life inevitably throws our way.

Staying Aligned With True North

The key is remaining aligned with our True North. This means saying no to paths that look “successful” but feel hollow or ring untrue. When our thoughts, actions, and choices align with our core values, we maintain integrity–personally, professionally, and creatively. Our internal navigation stays intact, helping us to find our way, even when life reroutes us again and again.

The Quiet Freedom of Discipline

Staying true to our True North does require discipline, a word that is often misunderstood. When we live by deeply held values, we reduce decision fatigue. Our choices become acts of self-care, rather than sources of stress. Over time, this value-based, disciplined approach to life creates containers for joy–often found in small, quiet milestones along life’s way. 

When Scott said, “I don’t know where I am going, but I’m following my map,” he was acknowledging–intentional or not–that most of us don’t know exactly where our lives are headed. Yet as long as we remain tuned-in, to our True North–that still small voice within, we are allowed to trust that forward movement is occurring–even if it unfolds along a less straightforward timeline than we might prefer.

In a world filled with loud and distracting voices, I invite you to listen to the compass you trust and follow the map it provides. Have faith. Keep going, even when it feels as though you are going nowhere. Keep going. Your faith knows the way forward.

Three Pauses: On breath, attention, and the quiet work of returning to ourselves

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes… including you.”–Anne Lamott

A Reminder to Pause

I was driving to work this past Monday after an extended break, thinking about my to-do list for the day, when an alarm on my phone began a soothing piano melody. Bringing my car to a rolling stop as I fell in line with traffic at a stop sign, I tapped the alarm off. I wanted to ignore it. Instead, I reminded myself this would help me complete those “to-do” lists with a more calm mind, so I paused my thinking and took three slow, deep breaths–the first of the day.

How a Friend Planted the Idea

This practice of setting a gentle sounding alarm as a reminder to take three deep breaths was a serendipitous seed of an idea that a friend unintentionally planted within me. We met for lunch one day, well before I returned to school from winter break. During the course of a deep conversation, her phone alarm accidentally went off. Surprised that it was going off, she quickly turned off the alarm and then–seemingly on a whim–said “Let’s take three deep breaths.” She shut her eyes and began inhaling, so I followed suit. Our conversation resumed afterwards and nothing more was said.

Turning an Accidental Moment into a Daily Practice

However, on the way home, I reflected upon how much better I felt after we took those three deep breaths. I further examined a few of the benefits that I knew regarding deep breathing. What would happen, I wondered, if I took time more often to take three deep breaths daily like I did with my friend? As I reflected over my typical work week and subsequent weekend, I identified three common times of the day, whether at work or not, in which pausing for three deep breaths would be beneficial. 

I realized that I would never remember to take time to do that without a reminder, which meant setting an alarm. Not any ol’ alarm sound would do.  Once home, I took a few moments, played around with various tones. My intention was to make the alarm sound invitational, not demanding. I knew if it felt like a chore, I would feel more resistant. Plus, the reality was I knew I wouldn’t be “perfect,” especially in the beginning and given the unpredictabilities that can occur on any given day.

Three Breaths, Three Times a Day

When the piano melody alarm now subtly tinkles, I pause what I am doing, close my eyes (if alone or not driving), and take three deep, expansive belly breaths. The alarms are set to ring before the arrival of students, during lunch, and at the end of the day, right after students leave. On the weekends, when I am busy with household chores and errands, the times still work well. 

Creating a Practice That Feels Gentle, Not Demanding

If I am alone, and not driving, I sometimes place one hand on my low belly and another hand on my heart. The hand placement reminds me to initiate the breath from my diaphragm and allow the air to expand the belly, then expand the ribs fully, and allow the inhale all the way up into the heart space. 

Other times, especially if I feel stressed or worried I place both hands on my heart in a gesture of self-care. Most of the time, however, I am not alone, given the nature of my job, but I can still pause and take three deep breaths without drawing any attention to myself. 

What Happens in the Body When We Breathe Deeply

Our bodies are miraculously created. They are designed, when properly cared for, to function like a high-performance team–each system working synergistically with other systems for the ultimate benefit of the whole. Pausing to take three deep breaths is my way of working with my body. The body responds by lowering the heart rate, decreasing blood pressure, and increasing a sense of calm. The body already knows how to do this. Taking deep breaths cooperates with the body’s natural process and simply allows it to intentionally happen.

When the Mind Begins to Follow the Breath

Our minds naturally follow the breath. If our breathing is short, shallow, or choppy, our mind readies itself for a stress-inducing event. Consistently setting aside time throughout the day to breathe in a relaxed, calm manner, even for a couple of minutes, incrementally creates a shift in our mind. While I wouldn’t say my practice has been transformative, per se, I would say that there are days my stress and anxiety are decreased, other days I notice a bit more mental clarity and focus, and other times I feel a subtle, but real, shift in my energy and vitality. While I cannot say I have eliminated all of the negative thoughts in mind, I am noticing that I am better able to handle my emotional response to a difficult moment with a bit more grace.

A Quiet Conversation Within

Another benefit I have observed is sometimes when I pause, I feel a connection to the “still, small voice within,” that source of wisdom that hovers beneath all of the distractions and noise. It is as if, for the briefest of moments during my busy day, my body, mind, and heart are at peace. I momentarily feel an overall sense of gratitude, a reminder of the positives in my life, despite those negatives that remain. There’s also a sense of connection to other hearts and souls moving in, around, and throughout my day. All told, it provides me with an overall feeling of solace.

Why Three Times a Day Matters

One thing I did not realize before starting this small practice is that by setting aside three times per day to take three deep breaths, it harnesses the power of the “rule of three.” The “rule of three”, I learned by happenstance a few days into my practice while I was listening to a podcast. This rule employs the principles of habit formation to increase focus, productivity, and well-being. The frequency of three breaths, three times per day is enough to establish the habit without it feeling overwhelming, which, lucky for me, is an important consideration. 

Imperfect Practice, Faithful Returning

Are there times I don’t heed the timer? There certainly are. I am not perfect, and I am not pretending it is easy to create a new habit. But I do continue to return to the practice, even if I miss a timer, or three, throughout the week. I know that when I do take time for that brief pause to nurture myself with a few deep breaths, I will show up better, more fully for myself and others.  

An Invitation, Not a Prescription

Perhaps there is a pause waiting for you too.

A Quieter Resolution for the New Year: Listening, Learning, and Loving Without Agreement

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“When we listen, we offer with our attention an alms far more precious than anything else.”— Simone Weil

The Season of New Year’s Resolutions—and a Different Invitation

The ritual setting of resolutions for a new year is a ubiquitous January practice. Gym memberships flourish, trackers are checked and rechecked, meals are planned and prepped all in the hope of self-improvement. One quick scroll of social media offers a wide array of options for  workouts, diets, and methods of accountability. While health resolutions matter, our culture needs a quieter resolution–one that prioritizes listening deeply, learning humbly, and choosing neighborly love without agreement.

What We Miss When We Stop Listening

One cultural trend I have noticed–and am often guilty of myself–centers around listening, or a lack thereof. Many of us talk past one another, make snap judgments, and curate words of certainty. Conversations become overlapping monologues–ears present, but attention is elsewhere. In doing so, we miss the quieter forms of communication: facial expressions, postures, and the subtle cues that reveal complexity and lived experiences. When we rush past these, we lose the opportunity to understand another person, and we deny ourselves the opportunity to be changed, even slightly. Making time for focused listening does not mean we are agreeing with another person’s position.  It is choosing understanding over reflex.  

Learning to Listen as a Daily Practice

Learning to listen well is an acquired skill, at least for many of us, myself included, but it is attainable. Engaged listening requires more than ears; it requires intention. It asks us to pause before responding to another person, to consider what was said, and to ask a thoughtful question, rather than immediately offering a counterpoint. Asking a thoughtful question or two can increase understanding of another person, especially if we are willing to sit with discomfort if their viewpoint challenges or counters our own. This type of listening takes time and requires humility. If you are like me, you won’t be perfect–but it is a worthwhile endeavor.

Listening Without Agreement

Frankly, it is easier to relegate people based on our assumptions.  It is inconvenient to take time to ask questions that might alter our long-held beliefs.  However, by listening and respectfully seeking understanding, we incrementally begin to learn more about an alternate point of view without necessarily agreeing with it. 

Lessons from the Classroom About Understanding Others

 This is an ongoing practice for me as a veteran educator separated by generations from my students, and even many of my colleagues, in a high school setting. I have entered numerous conversations over the years in which either I had assumptions about a situation involving a student, parent, or peer or they had assumptions about me. Those conversations did not always lead to agreement, but they almost always led to greater understanding–and that is the difference that mattered most.

What It Means to Love Our Neighbor Today

By taking time to listen and ask questions, we are putting into practice a foundational belief of most world religions and philosophies: “Love your neighbor,” emphasizing respect, compassion, and doing non-harm to others. This Golden Rule practice is neither affectionate nor approving. It is also not remaining silent when faced with harm. In today’s world, “loving your neighbor” can be as simple as showing restraint in how we speak–refusing to reduce a person to a single action or belief. Practicing the Golden rule can also be as simple as not reducing a person to a single belief or action. Loving others is simply a daily choice. It is a posture that can feel costly, especially when it would be easier–or less stressful–to walk away or erupt into outrage. 

Small Ways to Practice Kindness in Everyday Life

Standing in neighborly love takes practice, and it doesn’t have to occur in grand, sweeping gestures. We can begin to put into practice in small, cumulative ways that can still have a bigger impact than we realize.  During gatherings of friends and/or family, try listening longer than feels comfortable to that contrarian relative/acquaintance.  During community, work, or church meetings, instead of immediately refuting a counter point-of-view, respond with curiosity rather than certainty. While interacting with online spaces, try choosing kindness when sharpness would be easier, even if the kind act is not to respond at all. We won’t always be perfect, but the more we practice, the more natural it becomes.

A Resolution That Doesn’t Fit on a Checklist

When setting resolutions, health coaches often ask clients to create goals that are SMART: specific, measurable, achievable/attainable, relevant/realistic, time-bound/timely. Setting a resolution to listen, learn, and “love” others may not, therefore, appear “SMART.” Nonetheless, it remains an attainable and relevant practice through small, incremental steps. 

What Might Change If We Listened First?

Consider what might change if we listened a little longer? If we attempted to learn more than we defended? If we treated others the way we would want to be treated? If we “loved” more than we proved?  

A Practice Worth Returning to All Year Long

These actions are not about “perfection” with a clear-cut checklist that offers overnight transformative results. Instead, they are more about presence and intention–the intention to listen, learn, and love others. It is a resolution that does not have to end with guilt in February; rather, it is a practice that can be picked up and practiced again and again throughout this year and years to come. 

“You don’t have to agree with someone to treat them with dignity.” 

As the year begins, may we all strive to engage in a more neighborly discourse and actions. 

Be Good to One Another: On unseen suffering and the quiet work of kindness

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

On a winter morning downtown, a moment of waiting becomes a reflection on mental health, unseen suffering, and the quiet work of choosing kindness in a fragile world.

A Morning at the Intersection🚦

It was a cold, cloudy Saturday morning. I was waiting for the traffic light to change at a major downtown intersection.  All around, Christmas decorations, lights, and baubles sparkled as people dressed for a special occasion hurried towards the city’s arena. I wondered about the unusual sight of numerous people on the sidewalks at this time of day. With sudden clarity, I realized it was the university’s December graduation as groups passed in caps, gowns, tassels, and hoods. 

When We Cannot Know, We Must Care👤

Thinking back to my own daughter’s December graduation, I marveled how life marched on. Groups of people smiling, nodding, waving to one another, braced against the cold, hurriedly moving in a line like train cars linked together on one track bound to the same destination. Recent events came to mind, and I pondered the idea that surface appearances often bely the hidden interior lives of others–a reality social media has exacerbated. Suffering can be tucked away into hidden pockets so that even those closest may not see or know the hidden torment that lurks inside another human’s heart.

Why Unknowing Requires Care ❤️‍🩹

These groups of families, friends, and loved ones believe they know one another. And maybe they do … but maybe they don’t. This precise unknowing is why we need to care for one another–even when it seems futile. Many people carry burdens, traumas, fears, and anxieties that they either don’t share, or don’t know how to process, much less put into words. It is not necessarily a failure; it is part of the human experience that is difficult to understand. We must acknowledge that we may never truly know another person–even those closest to us. Thus, we must offer care, or at the very least, small kindnesses, to others.

“Be Good to One Another” 🫂

I continued to watch in fascination, lost in rumination, as more and more people, dressed in their finery, flowed out of the parking garages on either side of the traffic light. A long-ago, beloved priest’s words came to mind as I continued to watch and wait. “Be good to one another,” he would say at the conclusion of each church service. His words were simple, but their implications were profound. 

What kind of world would we have if more people were simply “good to one another”? If we listened to one another without trying to “fix” anything–personally, this is a hard one, and I suspect I am not the only one. What would happen if we checked in more frequently with another person, even if it feels awkward or tense? What if we responded with more gentleness, kindness, or at the very least, decent courtesy, even when we are tired, rushed, or unsure? Choosing deliberate actions that are kind or respectful does not require insight into another person’s pain, but it does require us to recognize their humanity. 

A Cup of Coffee, a Choice ☕️

I am reminded of a recent incident in which I was running through town. I witnessed an older, unhoused gentleman knock on the window of a man in a car outside of a coffee shop. The man inside of the car leapt out, yelling untold obscenities at the man who knocked. The disheveled, unhoused man kept saying, “I was just going to ask you for a cup of coffee.” The man who had been inside his car became louder and more aggressive. I felt so helpless as I watched in horror. Fortunately, a woman, older than me, walked out of the coffee shop, whispered to the gray-haired man, took him by the arm, and gave him a cup of coffee while the other man continued to spew vitriol. I was so touched by this gentle act. It reminded me of a yoga teacher from an old DVD who stated, “Go out and bless the world because the world needs it.” 

Have We Learned How to Show Up for One Another? 🫴

As I watched the graduation celebration train continue, I couldn’t help but wonder, in spite of all of their book and applied learning, they also learned how to show up for one another? Do they possess the empathy required to “bless” the world? Do they have the skills to offer patience when it is required, hold space when needed, and withhold judgment when encountering dissension or differences?  These are important questions not only recent graduates need to consider, but so do many others, myself included.

Resisting a Hardened Heart 🖤

These are big asks, I know. I try and fail regularly. Nonetheless, I cannot help but believe that striving to be a “perfect” human being matters far less than not allowing the world to harden us, so that we can respond more often with kindness. The key is remembering to reset, when we act unkindly, and try again in our interactions with one another. The world will not be healed by perfection, but rather when we lean into our interactions with one another with presence, awareness, and sensitivity.

Being a Warrior for Peace 😌

The same DVD yoga teacher also advised, “Be a warrior, not a worrier.”  While he typically said this as a point of humor during one of the “warrior” poses yoga is known for, the intent of the message has never been lost on me. Embodying the spirit of a warrior for empathy, gentleness, or kindness, is about offering hope without turning a blind eye to the harsh realities–pain, suffering, fear, or ignorance.  Being a “peaceful warrior” is about a willingness to care without expectations, choosing engagement–however you define it–over withdrawal into a cocoon of hopelessness. It is a practice of continually showing up, even in the smallest of ways.

Choosing Kindness, Again and Again ☺️

I know all too well that kindness will not save everyone, and caring for another does not come with control over another person’s choices. It is further worth acknowledging that our actions, no matter how well-intended, may not help, but it doesn’t mean we should not try. Send that text. Remain quiet and allow the other person’s pause to speak. Ask sincere questions and listen with genuine interest and without expectations. Smile at that stranger.  Offer to help another person–even a cup of coffee to an unhoused man. We never know how actions can impact another person, so please choose kindness over and over. Choose kindness.

As you move through your own daily encounters, consider an idea echoed by numerous writers: “A smile on the outside is often silent suffering on the inside.” 

I invite you, Dear Reader, to notice, reach out, and bless the world quietly with intentional acts of kindness. May we provide flickers of hope and peace in a world often determined to snuff out the light.

A Blessing at the Light 🙏

The traffic light changed.  I drove away, whispering the priest’s words to the strangers celebrating graduation, “Be good to one another. Please, please, please be good to one another above all else.” 

.

The Transformative Power of Art: A Visit to Tamarack

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Do you still feel up for going to the Tamarack?” my husband asked.

A Heavy Heart and a Planned Escape 🚘

Days earlier, we had loosely planned a day trip. The goal was to stop in Charleston for brunch on the way to Beckley, to nose around the galleries and marketplace of the Tamarack, and then return home, making a couple of quick errand stops along the way. Unfortunately, my spirit had been bruised by life, as sometimes happens, but despite feeling down, I agreed to go in the hopes it would be a pleasant distraction.

The brunch and drive along the WV Turnpike were heavy, filled with somber, clarifying conversation as my husband tried to help me clean out the closet of my cluttered heart. Tumbled, but not fully dried from an onslaught of despair, I entered the Tamarack lightened by our discussion, but still damp with distress. My intention from the outset was not to make a purchase, but instead soak up the vibrant and creative energy of the art, and by proxy the artists, who created it. 

Echoing my own feelings, Stella Adler stated, “Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one.”

Entering the Tamarack: A Sensory Shift

Once through the doors, I observed a crowd of people and wondered if this had been a good idea after all. Meandering to the right of the entrance, I surfed the sensory wave. Aromas of Appalachian-inspired cooking filled the air. A long line of people snaked around the fast-casual dining room as I made my way to the ladies’ room. Tamarack’s signature circular shape surrounding an open courtyard created a light and spacious feeling, even during this busy, pre-holiday time period. A multitude of glass windows, adorned with locally designed, gemstone-colored stained glass pieces, radiated an additional cheery warmth. The animated energy of visitors’ conversation added a rhythmic pulse to a popular sing-along soundtrack playing in the background. 

Letting the Atmosphere Settle the Spirit

As I allowed the wave to immerse me, I soon noticed that my breathing and pulse had slowed, tensions were eased, and the emotional flames were beginning to quell. Despite my earlier qualms, I could feel the atmosphere offering a form of calming consolation. The simple act of getting lost in the admiration and appreciation for each artist, and the art pieces they created, nourished my spirit. 

Wandering the Galleries: Beauty in Every Craft 🖼️

Allowing the natural flow of the galleries to pull me along, I took in richly detailed textiles and exquisite, delicate glass pieces. There were complex and intricate woodworks and artisanal earthen and pottery wares. Tables of WV grown and/or crafted wines, beers, ciders, soaps, candles, and one-of-kind foods/beverages were also available. 

I also stopped by the book nook, filled with locally written fictional and nonfictional books, novellas, cook books, maps, travel guides, and other artfully written materials. Additionally, there was a separate gallery, bright with ample natural light, filled with one-of-a-kind WV paintings, sculptures, prints, and photographs. 

Art as Memory: Echoes of Loved Ones 👵🏼

Allowing the current of creativity to slowly move me at will, the art grounded me into the present moment as I mindfully soaked up the vibrant energy. Different pieces evoked precious memories of loved ones: quilts of my grandmother’s attic, pieces of furniture and toys handcrafted by my husband’s grandfathers, earthen dishes that were reminiscent of family holiday casseroles, paintings and photographs of forested hills during the fall and winter months similar to those I hiked with my siblings and father as a child, and hand sewn creations that my mother once made.

The Healing Power of Art 🎨

I was further reminded of the many art therapy majors with whom I had classes all those long ago years. They often described the important role of art in therapeutic and school settings, a truth supported by research. Creating art and observing art supports mental health and well-being.  It often helps with emotional regulation by creating an outlet in which emotions can be channeled. Art is known to reduce stress and is often used as a tool for creating a greater understanding of one’s emotional atmosphere. Works of art often create a connection/conversation between the creator and viewer, which can provide an opportunity for both personal and collective healing.

Creativity as Community Storytelling

This is because art, such as the works I viewed at Tamarack, is often a reflection of the emotional landscape of a community, region, or even country. How many colorful and varied life stories, events, and personalities, past and living, were being conveyed and connected all under one circular roof? Each stitch, stroke, cut, hammer strike, click, and spin breathed life into each creation that spoke to the heart and soul of human resilience and hope.

In the Company of Strangers: Shared Wonder

As I meandered through the gallery devoted to paintings and photographs, I often lingered on works that spoke to me. Simultaneously, I overheard a pair of women, who were gazing at a section of paintings by a Mingo County artist, speaking with near reverence about their own childhood experiences in the same area. Another couple whispered with one another at nearly every piece, laughing at the memories specific images seemed to evoke. 

Spaces of Belonging: More Than a Marketplace

It occurred to me that art galleries, like the Tamarack, create centers of belonging–gathering places that celebrate the human experience. These transactional spaces aren’t just about exchanging money; they also provide an interchange of ideas and stories between artist, piece, and viewer. Investing in these community hubs is an investment in one another, supporting each other emotionally and culturally. People leave the Tamarack with a taste of what it means to be Appalachian.

A Quiet Affirmation

Standing in that gallery, soaking up all of the intriguing and thought-provoking images, an employee shook me out of my reverie by asking if I was enjoying my visit. I nodded, stating that I was feeling lighter and more grounded than when I entered. She unpretentiously declared, “Art can do that for you.”

We chatted a bit more before I moved on to look through the prints outside the gallery. I still did not have any answers to my specific concerns, but I did have a sense of peace that comes from being heard. Not that I was literally heard; rather, the struggles and joys, the sadness and celebrations, and the wonder and the awe that went into creating these pieces “heard” and spoke to my own related emotions. It was the beginning of healing and hope that often happens when surrounded by reflections of inner beauty.

Leaving with Lightness and Hope

Thomas Merton is credited with stating, “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” My visit to Tamarack allowed such a juxtaposition: by surrendering myself to time spent with art, my capacity for healing renewal was possible. It served as a reminder. When we immerse ourselves in the present moment, we kindle the still, small voice within, our hearts and minds steady at the sound of this whispering inner-knowing, and we can rest assured we are being held even when the heaviness of life weighs us down. Perhaps that is the gentle promise held within art: when life seems overwhelming and hopeless, the beauty of art and/or the creative process is there to offer us wings of hope for rising once more.

Embracing Silence: The Owl’s Call to Mindful Listening

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“A wise old owl sat on an oak;
 The more he saw the less he spoke;
 The less he spoke the more he heard.” —old proverb

A wise-looking owl perched on a branch in a dark, wooded area, illuminated softly by moonlight.
Photo by Erik Karits on Pexels.com

Listening in the Dark 🌌

I am an early riser, typically awake before the sun. A few weeks ago, my ears perked at the haunting, penetrating call of an owl. Its “Hoo-hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo” echoed around our yard as I looked out into the murky dark. Since then, I intentionally listen for its steadfast call. It has become both a comfort and a mystery—an invitation to listen, reflect, and learn something new.

The owl’s call continues, I am certain, even when I am not listening; yet it requires my full attention in those predawn hours if I hope to notice it regularly. Its presence illustrates the importance of listening and discerning with care and purpose.

A grey and white owl perched on a branch with wings partially spread, showcasing its feathers and an alert expression against a green blurry background.
Photo by Petra Ryan on Pexels.com

What Owls Teach Us About Voice 🗣️

The autumnal hoots I hear, I learned after a bit of research, are used mostly to communicate territory and to call to potential mates. (It is worth noting that many owl species mate for life, finding another only if a partner dies or becomes separated.) Owls also use distinct calls to warn a mate, their nestlings, or even neighboring owls when danger is near. Only when the threat is imminent do they screech, hiss, or snap their beaks in defense of their young. Like the owl, we, too, can carefully choose when to use our voices amid the noise of the world, saving our own form of “screeching” for the rarest and most necessary moments.

Three barn owls perched on a branch in low light, showcasing their distinctive features against a dark background.
Photo by throughmylife_in_ INDIA on Pexels.com

Signals of Respect and Coexistence 🦉

As I read more, I couldn’t help admiring how owls communicate—practically, respectfully, almost as if to say, “I am here. You are there. Let us coexist with our shared resources and help ward off danger.” To be certain, I am personifying and simplifying their communication, but perhaps there is a lesson for us. In a world that often isn’t equitable in its distribution of resources, space, or power, maybe we can learn the art of signaling like owls—communicating truthfully and transparently without silencing others. What if we approached our conversations with presence, restraint, respect, and a shared awareness of the landscape we inhabit?

Holding Our Ground with Grace 🙏

Hearing the owl’s early morning “Hoo-hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo” reinforces the importance of holding our own ground—our principles, values, beliefs, and even compassions—without becoming loud or defensive. The owl does not insist on being seen; rather, it asserts its message with a reserved dignity. We, too, can claim our “territory” through composed conviction and fairness, standing firm without demeaning others. Faith in our tenets, like my unseen morning owl, calls us to trust what cannot be seen but can be discerned only in stillness.

A tall tree with orange leaves against a clear blue sky, surrounded by a grassy area and a house in the background.
Fall is a time of release and renewal.

Autumn’s Invitation to Adapt 🍂

Autumn is a season of release and preparation. Light softens, signaling leaves to fall as trees ready themselves for winter’s quiet work. Many creatures follow this rhythm, including the owl in my backyard adapting to the shifting season. We, too, are invited to adapt—to let go of what is no longer needed, recalibrate our priorities, and listen more deeply. The natural world thrives on balance, which is different from our human desire for “fairness.” It exists in a subtle harmony in which every being plays a role. I wonder what might happen if we focused more on harmony—the give-and-take of shared ecosystems and resources—paired with the wisdom of knowing when to listen and when to speak.

A woman in a pink hijab interacts playfully with a barn owl perched on her arm, pointing towards its face, with another owl visible in the background.
Photo by Rangga Aditya Armien on Pexels.com

The Harmony of Coexistence 🕊️

The autumn owl’s voice in my backyard is solitary, and yet it reflects community. It marks its presence while acknowledging the presence of others, including us. Coexistence, the owl teaches, requires more than hearing what others say; it requires listening to the silences. Of course, human coexistence is complicated, and life often isn’t what we would call fair.

Therefore, it becomes incumbent upon us to listen, act kindly, and withhold judgment—offering small or not-so-small acts of goodness to help restore balance. This may mean choosing gentleness, or even silence, over the need to be “right,” especially when a loved one, friend, or coworker says or posts something unkind or expresses an opinion we strongly oppose. Likewise, offering compassion instead of judgment when someone is rude or ill-behaved can shift a moment for the better, even if only because we have refused to be pulled into energy-sapping negativity.

A serene forest scene with tall trees bathed in soft rays of sunlight filtering through the branches, creating an ethereal atmosphere.
Photo by Atlantic Ambience on Pexels.com

Before the Light Returns 🌅

The owl still calls unseen in the dark predawn hours, reminding us that communication, connection, and hope often begin before the light returns. The owl does not question whether the sun will rise; it simply continues its call, trusting the rhythm of creation. Like my unseen neighbor, I pray we find the courage to speak fairly, listen deeply, and have faith in the unseen process—knowing that every voice lifted in love and fairness echoes far beyond what we can see.

Perhaps that is the heart of the owl’s lesson: when we listen more deeply, we create the conditions for fairness to grow. As I recently read, “Life isn’t fair. It isn’t, which is why people should endeavor to be more fair to one another, not less.” —Kate Quinn.

Running Toward Hope: A Marathon of Movement and Love

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Every run is a work of art, a drawing on each day’s canvas. Some runs are shouts and some runs are whispers. Some runs are eulogies and others celebrations.”—Dagny Scott Barrios

A group of three people, including a man in a green hoodie, a woman in a bright orange top with a running bib, and a woman in a gray sweater, gather smiling at a running event in an outdoor setting with other runners in the background.
Just before the start of the marathon I took time to get a hug from my two biggest supporters throughout the training process: my husband, L, and my daughter, R.

A Morning of Reflection and Gratitude 🌅

A light mist fell as an overcast gray morning began to chase away the night. I stood quietly in a throng of animated runners, taking deep breaths as reflection and gratitude washed over me. Months of preparation had led to this moment, and I felt thankful not only for my health but for the loving support that carried me here—to this celebration of movement, resilience, and connection.

Running as an Act of Hope ✨

It had been ten years since I last pinned on a bib for this distance, and my body hummed with anticipation, hope, and belief—the belief that movement is for everyone at every age, and that it is, in itself, an act of hope. I was about to embark on an emotional 26.2-mile trail of faith that became more about the people who supported me than the miles themselves.

Discovering Joy in Gentle Movement 😄

I came to running later in life, and it wasn’t easy at first. Only when I learned to approach running gently—to let go of preconceived (and societal) notions of what running “should” be—did I discover paths full of freedom, clarity, and renewal. Movement, whether running, walking, dancing, or stretching, benefits body, mind, and spirit. It brings a sense of structure to an often chaotic world and offers a feeling of accomplishment—if nothing else goes right in a day, at least I moved my body. Movement brings us alive to ourselves, our spirit, and, in turn, to the world around us.

The joy, I’ve learned, is in the doing—not in attaching to a pace, distance, or goal. Those things can be part of the experience, but they aren’t required.

A man and a woman embrace warmly in a crowded setting, both smiling in a moment of connection before a marathon.
Maddie’s, my daughter, boyfriend, Connor, flew all the way from Austin, TX to be part of this event. Together, with Maddie, he helped plan the marathon surprise of a lifetime!

Redefining What It Means to Age 🧓

As I neared my 60th birthday, I began to notice messaging that framed this decade as one of limitation. I decided instead to flip the narrative and celebrate the 60s as a decade of possibilities. Why not run into this new decade the way I ran into my 50s—with eyes and arms wide to adventure?

Training with Gentleness and Grace 😌

Since I was already running regularly, I committed to training for a marathon, but this time with gentleness. Instead of a traditional four-month build-up, I created a ten-month plan that encouraged patience, routine, and presence. Twice-weekly strength training and yoga joined the schedule, as did listening to my body and using the run-walk-run method as needed. I also focused on proper hydration and fueling before, during, and after runs. Most of all, my husband and daughter supported me from the very beginning—their quiet, everyday encouragement becoming a steady foundation of strength.

A woman running on a street wearing a bright pink long-sleeve top, black leggings, and a cap, displaying a race number on her waist.
Gentleness was a large part of the 10-month training block that led to this moment of hope and celebration.

Adapting Through Life’s Curveballs 😰

Training for a marathon brings rhythm and structure to daily life—the early morning runs, the long weekend miles that lengthen gradually, and the sweet evening stretches after dinner. But life, of course, has its curveballs: weather shifts, fatigue, scheduling conflicts, unexpected events, and bouts of self-doubt. With age, though, I’ve learned to adapt rather than resist these realities, co-creating a practical, flexible approach to progress.

As my weekend long runs grew longer, my husband and daughter often appeared—driving by, stopping to cheer, or jogging beside me for a short distance. These small bursts of love in action fueled my heart and kept me going. Training, I realized, was less about mileage and more about cultivating fortitude, flexibility, and gratitude—along with a dash of fierceness—all essential life skills carried from the road.

A group of enthusiastic spectators cheer on runners during a marathon, surrounded by autumn foliage and a partly cloudy sky.
Maddie, and my husband, John, often showed up during the last few miles of my Saturday long runs to cheer me on as Maddie is seen here doing during the actual event itself.

Race Day: A Celebration of Love 💖

As the marathon began, the city of Huntington vibrant in energy, rebelling against the lackluster sky. Rhythmic footfalls and nervous chatter surrounded me as runners jostled for position. Warmly dressed spectators cheered, waving handmade signs against a backdrop of burnished orange, crimson, and yellow autumn trees. Little did I know that my daughter had turned this event into an outpouring of love.

Surprises Along the Course 🫢

At the start, my husband, daughter, and her boyfriend—who had flown in from Texas to surprise me—stood cheering. But that was only the beginning. Every few miles along the route, my daughter had arranged for friends, family, and coworkers to appear, waving signs and calling my name. I didn’t realize the scope of her plan until near the end, but each familiar face filled me with renewed energy, gratitude, and joy.

A female runner in a bright pink shirt crosses a street marked by traffic cones, while a supporter holds a sign nearby in a lively downtown setting.
The look of complete surprise when I see my sister, Traci, and her husband, David, around the 19-20 mile mark of the marathon. I had no idea they would show up along the route!
Two women running together on a city street during a marathon, with one holding a sign. They are surrounded by a lively atmosphere and shops in the background.
Of course, I had to veer off the path to give her hug, which helped uplift me over the next few miles.

Crossing the Finish Line 🏁

As I turned toward the final quarter mile, a group of race volunteers began singing “Happy Birthday” while my daughter’s boyfriend joined for a short burst of encouragement. My husband stood outside the stadium offering final words of encouragement, and my daughter met me at the bottom of the stadium ramp to run beside me as I approached the finish line. I wasn’t just completing a marathon; I was receiving the best birthday gift—a living reminder of love: a convergence of community, family, and friendship. It was a story of hope, purpose, generosity, and perseverance—the joy and power of a shared journey.

Two volunteers wearing bright reflective vests stand by a crosswalk in a park-like setting with blooming flowers and trees. In the background, a pathway leads towards a building under a cloudy sky.
This was the point, less than a quarter mile to go, when a group of race volunteers, led by an unknown female spectator and Conner, joined in to sing “Happy Birthday” to me as approached and rounded the corner to the finish line.

The Marathon as a Metaphor for Life 🪞

This journey mirrors life: we move forward by faith and grace, one step at a time, through both joy and challenge, supported by others who believe in us. That’s the power of movement—it connects us to our bodies, to others, and to something larger than ourselves. Choosing to move, to train, to keep going even when the path feels long, is an affirmation that with faith, growth and renewal are always possible—at any age.

Movement as a Lifelong Invitation 💌

Movement can take many forms: walking, stretching, dancing, or choosing to train for something big. The point is to move with intention and persistence, to embrace your own journey, and not attach to societal and social media messaging. Just move—and let movement open the door to new possibilities, both inner and outer.

A runner crosses the finish line at a sports stadium, with spectators in the stands and a clear blue sky overhead.
Maddie runs alongside me for the last few feet, just as she did in 2015, to encourage across the finish line. Once I was close to the finish line, she dropped back behind the rope to let me finish alone. However, I really wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by a giant embrace of joy, hope, and love of family, friends, and community!!

The Joy Continues ☺️

The rhythm of footsteps, the smiles for miles, and the faces of loved ones along the route are forever imprinted in my heart—all reminders that every step matters. The marathon finish line was crossed, but the renewed sense of possibility and joy continues. Whatever your pace or path, keep moving forward—heart, mind, and spirit. You never know what acts of hope and love may be waiting for you along life’s path.

A group of runners participating in a marathon on an overcast morning, with diverse individuals wearing colorful athletic clothing and cheerful expressions.
The joy, and the journey of love and hope, continues . . .

A Grateful Heart 💜

P.S. Thank you to the countless and nameless MUM volunteers who invested hours of time to ensure the safety and success of runners, walkers, and those beloved spectators. And, an extra special heartfelt thank you to my friends and family who celebrated this milestone with me. And to Maddie and John, I love you to the moon and back.

A group of three smiling individuals taking a selfie on a subway or train, with a map visible in the background.
I wonder where the next path of adventure will lead?
An assortment of hydration and energy products for runners, including electrolyte tablets and energy gels, arranged on a wooden surface.
Shout out to Precision Fuel and Hydration for the support during this training journey! I learned a lot from your team.