My Running Life

Almost exactly three years ago (October 2022) I walked into the Charlotte Running Company store nearest to me to start on a new journey. They were starting their Saturday group runs up again for the first time after Covid. I hadn't put running shoes on my feet in 13 years. I used to run but had gotten out of the habit, busy raising children and perfecting the body-shaped divot on my couch where my equally sedentary dog enjoyed being on my lap while I read my books. I went to Chicago to watch my baby, now a college kid, sail in a regatta and I met up with one of my oldest and dearest college friends who lived there. She said she couldn't stay out very late the night I was there because she was running the Chicago half marathon the next morning. I jokingly told her that I had just gotten a Facebook notification from CRC that they were starting group runs and even had a one mile route, that maybe before I turned 60 (I was 51 at the time--nothing like giving yourself a lot of lead time!) I could run a half with her and her running partner. Truthfully I was only following CRC on Facebook because my sailing kid had been a pole vaulter in high school and the store was willing to special order pole vault shoes for him (yes, there are special shoes; yes, they are expensive; yes, the Facebook page alerts you to sales; no, I hadn't remembered to unfollow after he graduated and hung up those fancy pole vault shoes). But in some weird algorithm glitch, Facebook, which had to know I was no runner, pushed that event to me as something I might be interested in. And by some strange confluence of the universe, I got that notification perfectly in time to mention it to my friend that weekend in Chicago and joke that I might go and try to run for a whole mile.

So why did I actually show up for that run? I have no idea. Nothing about it was really me. I was in my 50s. I was overweight. I was completely out of shape. It was an early morning and I have never been an early morning person. In fact, I convinced my college swim coach that 10 pm practices were far more reasonable than 6 am practices, which only lasted for my senior year as far as I can tell. (I'm either very convincing or so annoying it's just easiest to give me my own way--and I know which my family would vote for.) Most importantly, I didn't run anymore. But something made me set my alarm, get out of bed, and drive to the store. There had been a nasty storm, the remnants of a hurricane, the night before and the roads were littered with wet leaves and branches. I was the only person to show up for this newly revived group run. And I was horrified, having assumed that I could hide myself in a crowd of others. Matt and Armani greeted me warmly and enthusiastically. They said they weren't sure if anyone was going to show up given the storm and asked how far I wanted to go. The Facebook options had listed 1 mile, 2 miles, 4 miles, and 6 miles. Beyond embarrassed, I said I was just trying to run again for the first time in more than a decade so I was only going to do a mile. They smiled and said they'd happily run my mile with me and I could set the pace. More embarrassment. My pace was going to be "dirt slow and hope I don't die." They didn't care one iota. And they didn't make me feel badly about it either (although when I later--and by later I mean weeks or months--found out they could have run faster backwards than the pace we did that morning, I felt another little tinge of embarrassment, thankfully lesser by then because they were so kind). We set off on the run, with them comfortably behind me, chatting away. I only managed to run the entire mile because they were there behind me, encouraging me when they thought I needed it, and because I'm stubborn enough that I didn't want to have to stop and make even more clear what my slow, chunky, old lady self probably already telegraphed. I ran that whole mile that morning. And because they were so welcoming and accepting, I came back Saturday after Saturday until the week I decided I was ready to run two miles. And then there was the week I came in and told them I had run once in my neighborhood that week as well as showing up for Saturday. Every step of the way, folks in the store celebrated my every achievement, large or small. They reminded me of how far I'd come if I was disappointed in a run. They welcomed me into the running community, one of the nicest communities I've ever been a part of. They were there when I took my first running steps and they have had my back the whole way. I may not love running quite as much as so many other runners. It's hard and I'm still not that good at it. I'm still chunky (although less so). I'm still old. I'm still slow. But I'm not out of shape anymore. I'm proud of myself. And yes, I'm a runner.

Three years ago I ran a mile. Two weeks ago I ran 32 miles.

**Note: I do not necessarily think running is for everyone. But whatever path you take, I hope that you find as warm, welcoming, encouraging, maybe mixed with a little--or a lot--of crazy a community as I found at CRC and in the greater running community in Charlotte.

Review: The Correspondent by Virginia Evans

I am a huge sucker for epistolary novels under any circumstances. I have written letters off and on my whole life to friends and to pen pals I have never met, and likely will never meet. Finding something personal in the mail, as opposed to bills and junk mail, is always a thrill. So when you combine that thrilling feeling with the slightly illicit feeling of reading someone else's letters as you do in an epistolary novel, it almost guarantees a good reading experience. Virginia Evans' novel, The Correspondent, was a delightfully good reading experience.

Slightly different than other novels in letters, this tells the entire story through the letters of Sybil Van Antwerp without supplying the reader almost any of the replies (with just a couple of notable exceptions). The reader learns who Sybil is, about her relationships, what she is most proud of, what she is most ashamed by, the way her life spun out of control only to be wrested back with determination and steel, and the sorrow and guilt she feels for something that happpened a life time ago. Sybil's accomplishments were many and her correspondence impressive. The people with whom she communicates, including contemporary authors, famous people (although we are only told of these letters), her family and friends, a thoughtful neighbor, the Dean of a local college, and more show different facets of the complex character that is Sybil. This is a quiet novel, very much character driven, rich and rewarding.

Review: The Fortnight in September by R.C. Sherriff

I am packing up to head home from my annual summer vacation and I picked up R.C. Sherriff's The Fortnight in September as a final read of the season. It turns out that this gentle look at an ordinary, middle class British family's yearly seaside vacation to the sea was the perfect accompaniment to the end of my own summer, capturing as he does, the anticipation and flurry of getting ready for vacation, the pleasure of the vacation itself, and the melancholy of leaving mixed with the rightness of being once again at home.

Centered on the Stevens family of five, Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, twenty year old Mary, seventeen year old Dick, and ten year old Ernie, this charming novel shows the small pleasures of daily holiday living in a happy, familiar place, bathing in the sea, walking on the boardwalk, playing cricket, flying a kite, and so on. The Stevens go to Bognor Regis every year for two weeks in September. They stay at the same guesthouse and cheerfully follow roughly the same schedule during their time there. There are, of course, small changes each year, like choosing to splurge on renting a bathing hut this year or the increasingly noticeable shabbiness of their chosen guesthouse, but their fondness for the place, loyalty, and pleasant memories of past years keep them coming back, especially this year when there was a question of whether Mary and Dick, both out of school now and working, would join the family again or if they'd go off with their friends. There are no large dramas here, only small ones easily (and for the most part happily) navigated.

The novel is almost entirely character driven with little plot to speak of but it captures the appeal of the familiar, comfortable everyday life in a place the characters love and look forward to all year. The writing is old fashioned (although likely not so when it was published in 1931) and nostalgic feeling, and the story is warm and engaging, following each of the five family members on their own and together, giving the reader more insight into each of their thoughts and hopes both on vacation and in their usual life. It's a slow, quiet novel of annual rituals and small, contained pleasures that makes for an enjoyable reading experience.

Review: Lost in Michigan's Upper Peninsula by Mike Sonnenberg

Since I spend every summer in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, I picked this book up with the thought that I might find new places to visit around me and across the UP. Disappointingly I'm not entirely certain I found exactly what I was looking for though.

The locations highlighted here are arranged by general area in the UP and give not only street addresses but also geographical coordinates. Each place is followed by a short history of the attraction and recommendations of things to do (for example to bring jugs to fill up at a certain spring). The tone of the writing is folksy and conversational but I have to question Sonnenberg's enthusiasm for many of the sites he highlights, especially when it takes a good long time to reach a particular location and all a visitor can do is park their car and gaze at abandoned ruins. He misses including interesting information about some of the highlighted sites (at least in my area), such as unique geological features or the potential to see endangered flora. I'd have loved to see more quirky things included like the troll in Germfask (although Benny the Beard Fisher might be too new to be included in this edition, this gives a sense of the kinds of hidden gems I was hoping to find) rather than including little towns that he's deemed to be good places to get gas, sandwiches, and cell service. Honestly, reading through this didn't make me want to travel throughout the UP, which is a real shame and the exact opposite of what this book was striving to do.

Review: BIg Gay Wedding by Byron Lane

We can have hopes and dreams for our children but in the end, they are the only ones who get to choose what their lives look like. Sometimes this is hard for a parent to reconcile with what that parent wanted or had envisioned. This is especially true of Chrissy Durang, the mother in Byron Lane's novel Big Gay Wedding.

Chrissy has been running the Polite Society Ranch, a petting farm full of rescues, ever since she was widowed. She expects her only son Barnett to come home one day and take over the farm. Barnett is Chrissy's sun and moon and she can even semi-accept his homosexuality as long as he just keeps it quiet. But it turns out that Barnett's latest visit home isn't to tell his mother he's ready to take over, but to introduce her to his fiance, Ezra. And as for keeping his sexuality quiet, well, that's out too as the men want to hold the wedding on the ranch in this small Louisana town. There's a lot that will have to be overcome to make this wedding go off without a hitch, not least of which is Chrissy's and the town's homophobia.

Although the novel tackles some deep and important topics like homophobia, parental expectations, and acceptance, there is also a decidedly zany side to it as well. Barnett's grandfather, Paw Paw is a delight, loving and accepting his grandson as he is. Ezra's sister Nichole is completely over the top, especially in her wedding planning. Ezra's mother Victoria is crazy and has her own issues. Even Chrissy's constant elaborate checklists earn a giggle, with the checklist of things she doesn't like about Ezra coming back around positively in the end. Chrissy's struggle with her son's sexuality and his life choices, including not taking over the farm she's taken care of as his inheritance for so long, is hard and sometimes repugnant but realistic feeling. Seeking guidance from others on her struggle showcases the similarly misguided feelings of others in town but instead of reinforcing her feelings, seeing the homophobia in others helps her to reckon with and confront her own. Ultimately this ends up being a feel good novel with heart, even if it's not the most realistic you'll ever read and once you get past your anger at Chrissy's attitude in the beginning.

Review: The Trouble with Twins by Kathryn Siebel

What better time to read a middle grade book than during back to school season? I am not much of a middle grade reader in general but when I was cleaning out my kids' books I found a small stash that looked fun so I kept them to read myself. Kathryn Siebels' The Trouble with Twins was one of the books I saved in the last purge. It's a cute story and was a nice change of pace from my usual reads.

Twins Arabella and Henrietta are very alike, except Arabella is somehow prettier, tidier, and more popular than her sister. Arabella is unquestionably their parents' favorite. Mostly this has been fine because the girls are each other's best friends. But when Arabella gets annoyed with Henrietta, flaunting her popularity and ignoring her sister's loneliness, Henrietta decides to do something she can't take back. Banished to live with her eccentric and intimidating great aunt Priscilla, Henrietta misses her sister desperately. Back at home, Arabella too, is discovering that living without Henrietta is sad and lonely. While Henrietta is making her first friend outside of Arabella, enduring her great aunt's appalling dinners, and generally trying to make her downhearted best of everything, Arabella sets out on an adventure to reunite her with Henrietta.

The story is told in a similar manner to The Princess Bride with a mother recounting the story to her daughter and the text including the asides and brief conversations they have over the contents of the story. The parents (and nanny) here are pretty reprehensible in the way that they neglect Henrietta and favor Arabella so clearly. Most of the other adults, with the exception of Inez, the bookstore owner, come off as bumbling ding-dongs, reinforcing the quirkiness of the novel. There are a few plot lines that receive the briefest of treatments and deep, loyal relationships with others happen too quickly in many cases. As is though, this is a pleasant fairy tale-ish read that will appeal to many middle grade readers.

Review: Mrs. Lorimer's Quiet Summer by Molly Clavering

Dean Street Press is publishing some wonderful long out of print books from women writers of the early and mid-twentieth century. Molly Clavering's Mrs. Lorimer's Quiet Summer is one of these delightful reprints.

Lucy Lorimer is the middle-aged mother of four grown children and several noisy grandchildren, and a rather commercially successful writer. She is married to husband Jack, also known as the Colonel, who, at first blush, appears to leave all domestic dramas and organization to his wife. Her best friend Gray Douglas lives across the village from Lucy and is also a writer. The novel opens as Mrs. Lorimer is preparing to have her whole family descend on her for a visit and the logistics of where everyone will sleep is the biggest of her concerns. Of course, as the summer goes on, the adult children's problems, a health scare, and the unexpected reappearance of an old flame will complicate Lucy's life, leaving her to have anything but a quiet summer.

The novel really centers on Lucy and Gray's supportive friendship and the comfortable, respectful marriage between Lucy and Jack in this gossipy, quaint Scottish village. The stakes aren't terribly high, the worries and domestic difficulties small in the scheme of things, but they give just enough drama to keep the story moving forward. The result is an enjoyable and comfortable read with characters you can't help but smile over.