Embracing Life’s Unanswered Questions

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.“–Rilke 

A vibrant sunrise with deep orange and golden hues peeking through soft clouds, symbolizing new beginnings and hope.
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When the Mind Won’t Stop Asking 😕

Those words of Rilke, written over a century ago, remind me that some of the hardest seasons in life are the ones that offer no answers—only questions that echo back in silence.

A silhouette of a person walking towards a bright sunrise, symbolizing hope and introspection.
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Running into the Questions ⁉️

I was driving home Saturday morning after my weekly long run with a podcast playing in the background. The previous week had been difficult, and I had hoped the run would provide a reprieve from my worries. I started running well before the sun rose under the cloak of a starry sky, which served to keep my mind calm. Then, the rich crimson of dawn edged up the horizon, deepening from vermilion to the fiery orange of full sunrise. As if on cue, the monkeys in my mind began chattering—an endless loop of questions followed by equally endless, devastating possibilities. 

I tried to redirect my thoughts: “If only this or that would happen, then everything will be fine,” I told myself. The problem with this if–then principle is that it’s meant for building new habits or personal change; I can’t magically apply it to others—or to the world at large. Even after my run, the mind monkeys continued their spirals. Then a line from the podcast caught my attention, “What I think Rilke’s words are stating is that if we can learn to live in peace alongside the questions, this may allow us to witness the unfolding of the answers in some indeterminate future.” 

A hand reaching out towards a shimmering body of water under a bright sky.
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An Invitation, Not a Reprimand 🙂

Of course, I had not heard Rilke’s words, so I had to rewind the podcast in order to focus on the original quote. Those words felt like an invitation to hope, rather than a reprimand for my monkey mind. To be clear, it did not feel like a promise of a positive outcome, but rather hope for a greater understanding one day. Rilke’s words seemed to affirm my questioning, as long as I let the questions simply “be,” like one ingredient in the stew of life. 

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The Unsolved Nature of Life 🧐

While I cannot speak for everyone, I think many of us live with unanswered questions—and I’m probably in the camp that has more than a few. Seasons of life bring different questions, but they often center around themes of health, purpose, relationships, concern for others, and the future. It is often uncomfortable–the unsolved nature of life. We desire, like the fairy tales of our childhood, resolutions to problems in which we “all lived happily ever after.” We like knowing what is next; we desire to wrap up answers neatly and hand them over like a present. But life, as we eventually learn, isn’t wrapped in tidy endings. 

A serene landscape shrouded in fog, featuring two swans gliding on a calm body of water, with bare trees reflecting in the misty surroundings.
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When Answers Refuse to Come 🤨

If you have ever encountered a personal crisis, or that of a loved one, you know the “hurry up and wait” sense of time that often accompanies these scenarios–appointments scheduled off into the distant future, followed up by more appointments with no answers, only more maybes and/or more questions or concerns. It can feel like an autumn fog settling over a town in the early morning hours. You can see outlines of various possibilities, but still not know what the future holds. And yet, even in that fog, life quietly continues. 

A chalk-drawn question mark on a black background, symbolizing uncertainty and curiosity.
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Coexisting with Uncertainty ❓

On one hand, Rilke seems to invite us to love the questions—an improbable ask, given the weight of so many of life’s uncertainties. Perhaps, as the podcaster suggested, Rilke’s words invite us to coexist with uncertainty rather than chase quick answers. Personally, when I face challenges, my first instinct is to “fix it,” whatever “it” may be. However, most of life’s bigger questions are not, per se “fixable” in a vacuum. There are many uncontrollable variables that often fill me with an anxious energy. 

This is when I tend to lean into writing, outdoor movement (especially running and walking), as well as reading–trying to learn as much as I can about the current challenge I am facing. Additionally, I will offer help (if I can be of service) to those for whom I am concerned. In this way, I feel like I am stretching and growing in understanding and empathy, rather than grasping and silently suffering. 

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The Garden Rule: Sleep, Creep, and Leap 🪻

I’ve lived long enough to know that many answers only emerge with the sweet relief of distance and time—like the three-year rule of a perennial garden: sleep, creep, and leap. A long-ago biology professor once explained that in the first year of a newly planted garden, the plants appear to grow very little because they’re focused on developing and strengthening their roots. The following year, roots are still growing and establishing, but they do have enough energy to create a bit more growth above ground. However, by the third year, the roots are fully established and the plant appears to “leap” out of the ground with growth. So it can be with the answers to life’s questions. 

Three white blocks arranged to spell 'WHY' in black uppercase letters.
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Growing Through What We Don’t Yet Understand 📈

There are times in life where we cannot figure out why we keep facing one roadblock and one challenge after another. We wonder how much more we can endure, why we are faced with a certain situation, or why things are not going the way we imagined. Like that early decorative landscaped garden, we cannot see that our experiences are developing roots of strength and stability. We may not see that our ability to empathize, our talents, our emotional well-being, and even our souls, are stretching and strengthening. Later, we may look back and see that those setbacks were quietly shaping us—building the strength we’d need for what came next. 

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The Ineffable Beauty of Living with Questions ✨

As I further reflected on Rilke’s words and my own lived experiences, I realized that there is a certain ineffable beauty that is created by living with questions because it asks us to rely upon faith and grace, granting us a greater purpose as a seeker and a doer. 

We are not here to solve life, but to live it—with curiosity, patience, and hope.

While hope does spring eternal, it is not the same as knowing the answers. Perhaps, that’s the point–it is more about trusting that our life story is continuing to unfold in its own time and season. 

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Light, Grace, and the Unfolding of Answers 💫

Finishing the drive home, I realized that Rilke had a point. As long as I have questions, as long as I seek answers, I am not only living, but I am living with an open, loving heart and a curious, empathetic mind. I have been fortunate to live to see questions answered, but I still have more questions to go–about loved ones, about the world, and about myself. 

Like the sunrise that began my run, the light of understanding will come again—slowly, beautifully, and in its own time. Until then, I feel grateful for life’s questions. They have strengthened my life in numerous ways and provided me with unpredicted opportunities for growth. In the words of John O’Donohue, “Perhaps the beauty of not knowing is that it keeps our hearts open enough to be surprised by grace.” I welcome that grace into my life—and I hope you do too.

Running with Purpose: The Charleston Distance Classic and My Marathon Journey

The West Virginia State Capitol building with a golden dome, surrounded by trees and a pastel sky at dawn.
The CDC starts in front of the state capitol of WV.

A Quote to Carry Me to the Start

Dean Karnazes is often credited with saying, “Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.” His words echoed in my mind while I was experiencing a case of collywobbles as my family and I drove to Charleston, WV, in the predawn hours of Labor Day weekend. Only weeks earlier, I had decided I had built enough base fitness to run the Charleston Distance Classic (CDC), “America’s 15-miler.”

A joyful runner in a race, wearing a white shirt with a 13.1 badge and black shorts, excitedly posing with a water bottle while making a peace sign.
Ready to run the CDC!

Returning to the Classic After Ten Years

It had been more than ten years since I last ran it. In my previous two runs of the CDC, the weather was formidable, with the typical August heat wave bringing high heat and humidity. In fact, it wasn’t unusual to see runners collapse on the course—or cross the finish line only to collapse into the arms of medics from heat exhaustion.

Two women pose together smiling in front of a large government building with a golden dome, one wearing a race bib and athletic attire while the other is in casual sportswear.
My daughter was texting me messages of support throughout the race, so Siri could read them to me in my ear as I ran.

How Running Has Changed for Me

Life was different ten years ago. Besides being younger, I was fairly new to running and relied heavily on veteran runners for guidance. On one hand, I was fortunate to have others with whom to train; on the other hand, I didn’t yet have the aerobic base they had built over years. Plus, when I started running, I gave up strength and flexibility exercises, which I now know would have helped me. Instead, I focused on keeping up with others and hitting the weekly mileage goals.

Runner stands on a swing-shaped structure in front of the West Virginia State Capitol, smiling and wearing a race bib, under a clear sky.
Ready to swing into action.

Building Balance and Training for a MarathoN

Over the past decade, I’ve taken breaks from running—first from burnout, when I missed other forms of exercise. I rotated through strength training, yoga, walking, and cycling, always circling back to running. The pandemic brought running back to the forefront, as gyms and studios were closed.

Since then—and one major surgery later—I’ve learned to build a more balanced approach to exercise that includes a wide array of modalities, running among them. I exercise now for the joy of movement, as well as overall wellness. Still, I enjoy the discipline of a challenge. This year, in honor of another decade milestone, I’m training for the Marshall University Marathon (MUM)—the full 26.2 miles. Rather than follow a standard 16-week plan, I began in January, gradually building my aerobic base.

Runners lined up at the starting line of a race on a road, with traffic lights and spectators in the background.
The starting line for the CDC.

A Perfect Day to Race

It was this extended training that gave me confidence to run the CDC again. In addition, the weather worked in my favor. Temperatures were in the 50s when the race began in front of the state capitol. Running along the Kanawha River in the first mile, runners quickly spread out as paces varied.

View of a bridge with steel beams and a roadway, featuring a few pedestrians in the distance.
The South Side bridge, which runners crossed twice–near mile 3 and again at mile 8.

“Capital Hill PUnishment” and the Course Challenge

Before long, we crossed the South Side Bridge and began the long trudge up Corridor G, aptly nicknamed “Capital Hill Punishment”—two miles of climbing. As if that weren’t enough, the course then wound through three hilly miles of Charleston’s South Hills neighborhoods. By the time we returned to the South Side Bridge, eight brutal miles were behind us. The final seven were mostly flat, except for one last incline near the end—just when our legs were good and toasted.

My Cheer Squad: John and Maddie

The CDC is a great spectator race, and I was lucky to have my husband, John, and daughter, Maddie, there. They were tireless cheerleaders, walking all over Charleston to encourage me. At the start, Maddie urged me on with excitement. At mile eight, as I crossed the South Side Bridge for the second time, she even ran alongside me for a short stretch, offering encouragement.

Between miles 11 and 12, they found me again, cheering and taking my empty handheld water bottle—by then more of an annoyance than a help. At Laidley Field, Maddie’s voice carried as soon as I stepped onto the track, her shouts of encouragement giving me the final push.

A person jogging on a city street with a garbage truck parked nearby and a multi-story building in the background.
This was mile 8. Afterwards, there was mostly flat course, EXCEPT for a last incline during the very last mile before the finish line. UGH!

Lessons from the Endless Last Mile

Honestly, that last mile seemed endless, and I learned a powerful lesson: even the final mile is still a mile long. My mental discipline slipped, and the fortitude that carried me there begged for rest. I grew whiny and irritable, which only amplified the aches and pains I had managed to ignore until then. It reminded me of my reaction in the last mile of a half marathon I ran this past spring in Asheville, NC.

Scenic view of a riverbank with lush greenery, walking path, and a bridge in the distance under a clear blue sky.
The beautiful Kanawha River that flows through Charleston, WV.

Strengthening My Fortitude

That last mile taught me what I must carry into the last weeks of marathon training: when the long runs get longest, I need to focus on strengthening my fortitude—especially at the very end. This, for me, is the hardest part. I try to follow the advice of Olympian Jeff Galloway (who is also credited with establishing the “Run-Walk-Run” method) to smile at each mile marker—since smiling releases those feel-good chemicals and helps relax the body. He also suggests repeating a mantra or power word. Perhaps I need to lean into this more.

Remembering My “Why”

I also need to remind myself of my “why” when the going gets tough. With the MUM, I hope to raise awareness for Branches Domestic Violence Shelter. Branches provides emergency shelter, legal assistance, counseling, case management, and even meal delivery for domestic violence survivors. Their work saves lives. If my miles can help encourage even a few people to support them, that will mean as much to me as crossing the finish line.

A smiling woman holding a medal, wearing athletic clothing, stands next to a post in a race finish area, with a crowd and tents in the background.
Feeling so grateful for my family, love, and support at the end of the CDC.

Running Differently, Running with Gratitude

Ten years later, I run differently. I take walk breaks when needed, and I’m grateful to still have my health. Running gives me energy, provides structure, and fills me with joy and purpose. Not every run is great, but each mile contributes to my community by keeping me connected to local races and to my own mental, physical, and spiritual well-being. Running also pulls me outdoors, connecting me with the Creator and with the delight of each season.

Never Give Up—In Running or in Life

Running the CDC reinforced the lesson of never giving up. I may be entering a new decade, but that doesn’t mean I have to give up striving for new goals—even if it means crawling to achieve them. Perhaps I’ll see you at the MUM. If not, I hope you’ll create your own journey. Either way, I invite you to celebrate with me—by supporting Branches or by committing to your own goal. Adjust as you must, but never give up. Step by step, with fortitude, tenacity, and a few deep breaths, you can do it.

A running event starting line with an inflatable arch labeled 'Appalachian Timing Group' on a red track, set against a clear blue sky and distant hills.
Never give up! You can cross whatever finish line in life you need to cross!