songs of experience

Track & Field Olympian, Joan Nesbit Mabe, waxes philosophical... and sometimes wanes.

8/18/2008

Personal Best

Filed under: — Ashley @ 9:04 pm

I’ve been thinking a lot about “PRs” and “personal best” recently.  I have had Olympic fever, characterized by dark circles under the eyes from watching these amazing athletes compete against each other, and themselves.   I even like the human interest stories, don’t mind the jingoistic press coverage and cry when the national anthem is played at medal ceremonies.  (Joan, I can’t wait to pick your brain about your experience!)

 

But I’ve also been thinking about the concept of personal best since my family did an “intervention” to convince me not to run a marathon.  They reminded me of all the injuries I have suffered and all the painful, boring physical therapy necessary just to get out of pain, not to mention to be able to run again.  I know they are right.  I appreciate their concern, and I actually felt a great sense of calm once I decided to do the half-marathon instead.  So, why am I still being self-critical?

 

I always encourage my children to do “their best” and not to compare themselves to others.  Easier said than done!  I wish I didn’t have tight hips and weak hamstrings (and fat thighs and thin hair…)  But I do.  And it’s what we do with what God gave us that matters.  My personal best is nothing more or less than mine.  I can’t run as fast or as far as others, but I can do my best at workouts and on long runs. I can enjoy circle time and laugh and cry and grow with my friends.  And I can’t think of anything better than that!

8/6/2008

Eye of the Storm

Filed under: — Mimi @ 10:16 am

Eyes both blue and green

Turn to me to meet their needs

makes me want to run

                Mimi O’Grady, Carrboro

 

That’s my haiku.  I recently submitted it to The Chapel Hill News for “Submit your Haiku to be Published” week.  It wasn’t published.  It was supposed to be funny;  ironic and composed for my slim audience of friends and fellow runners.  Instead I simply alarmed the newspaper staff.

My Summer has been loud and interrupted at every turn.  There have been many house guests, a new dog, potty training for both my child and that dog, live music on the porch, construction, early  morning practice for my high schoolers, play dates and swim lessons for the younger brothers, Montezuma’s Revenge, groceries and garbage stacked to the sky, and more and more and more and more.

In the midst of this large and loud life, I received my Janes Packet in the mail.  It contained the theme and layout of our upcoming Fall season.  My heart skipped a beat when I saw the letter amid the catalogs, form letters, bills.  I walked from the mailbox and considered the possibility of twelve uninterrupted weeks of running in a pack of 24, no 25, no 26 gals.  Can this be?  Is this a dream?  Is this letter telling me that moms will assemble twice a week to run and talk and ponder and create and run and talk some more?  Huh?  There will be a goal race at the end too?  Someone has assembled this right here in my town?  Can this be real?

Yes, it’s real.  I know it.  I have been there from the very first day, for 384 Mondays and Wednesdays.  And I’ll be there in a few weeks to drink up the next 24.  

 

Janes in running skirts

We are the eye of the storm

Wanna run up front

Powered by WordPress