Without Words: You Will Be Too

“The most common way people give up their Power, is by thinking they don’t have any.” -Alyce Walker

The Road can make a body weary. I’ve been traveling…a lot. The joy, the smiles, the happiness, the depth of what we are doing has a way of working their way deeply into my cells…particularly when the body IS weary. The physical-ness of me becomes less of a barrier and I feel more transparent. I become more emotional.
I am in Kalamazoo as I write to you. I drove in from Ann Arbor yesterday, after an incredibly moving event with Danielle Plunkett-Johnson and her team. Follow that with Sandy Barry-Loken and her amazing team holding their annual volunteer recognition event last night here in Kalamazoo.

I spent over an hour yesterday preparing my speech. I don’t often require much prep time, but yesterday I pulled together some new “material” to share with our Kalamazoo “family”.

I never got around to sharing it.

I didn’t need to. Anna (on the right in photo above) and Jessie(on the left) said it all.

Jessie is a fourteen year old graduate of the program. Her mom was a faithful coach for six years…and Jessie was on her mom’s GOTR teams over each of those six years. She is now in 9th grade.

Jessie confidently walked to the stage, took to the podium and proceeded to read, with passion like none other, a poem she had written that won a literary award here in Kalamazoo.

Before you read it…seriously…I want you to settle in. Take a few deep breaths, because you will be left breathless when you are through:

Beauty
By Jessie Fales, Kalamazoo, MI

Judge a girl by the mounds on her chest,
by the curve of her spine,
by the silk of her skin,
by her hair’s shine.
Stare at her hips,
gawk at her thighs,
act as though she’s only a feast for your eyes.
Let your gaze travel over every inch of her body,
and then, when you finally like what you see,
call her beautiful.
And if this is how you determine beauty, then you are a fool.
Because beauty is not found in the vessel,
but it is found in what that vessel contains.
The most beautiful shell in the world could break,
and then you would have nothing.
But if you would look at an ordinary oyster,
you would find in her the most beautiful pearl,
a treasure that you’ve always ignored.
Beauty can be found everywhere, if only you take the time to look.
It is in she who finds a reason to laugh, when life gives her a thousand reasons to cry.
It is in the girl who can rise from the depths of despair.
It is in she who dances in the rain.
It is in the girl who speaks her mind.
It is in she who goes against the grain.
It is everywhere.
And if you choose to ignore all of this beauty,
and focus on that which only meets your eyes,
then you are a fool.
A fool who will never know what beauty truly is.
I was a goner at the word gawk in line six. The words of this powerful woman-girl hit me deeply in my solar plexus. I found myself nearly thrown to my knees with their impact. THIS is where it starts. THIS is the Girl Box…gone, obliterated, eliminated, SHATTERED!

Anna is next. She walks to the stage after a heartfelt series of words from her mancoach, Paul. (Yes…I said MANcoach!)

She reads her words, bravely to 200 plus women and here they are:
When I started GOTR, I felt like the bi-polar girl who was chubby, hideous, unwanted. I’d walk in school with my head down, belly sticking out, eyes clenched shut, lips tight… so scared and felt so hated I didn’t know what to do. I felt the world was after me and wanted to klomple me, smack me down because I was so hideous.

Everybody starts out scared. I thought I could never run. My heart ached but my team cheered me on. I learned that your team was there for you. And I was able to finish the 5K. I said “me, I thought I could never do that”

Second year, who knew… new school, coaches, team. The kids were nice to me. What a relief. Coaches Paul and Steph and assistant Jen rocked! They gave me the nick name, Anna the Brave, for being able to run and everything.
The last year I was more fearless. I could go into school with my head up, smiling, waving to my buddies.

Then I became assistant coach to Paul. I got depressed, but GOTR kept me brave… kept me going. When I was coaching, I was running and cheering girls like older kids were for me. I wanted to be that kid. I wanted to help them feel that somebody may like you just because you’re you. I wanted those girls to turn brave, fearless.

If I didn’t do GOTR, I couldn’t have faced some scary treatment for bi-polar and depression. I learned how to boost my self esteem and like who I am; and I did the 5K 4 times… Oh Yeah! I also learned how to face bullies (it’s like getting IVs… and I get a lot of these).

Seriously, I don’t know how to explain it.
And then she was done.

Now it’s my turn. I slowly walked to the stage. And was, for the first time in what has become a career that involves public speaking, literally left without words. They had already been said. They had already been shared. They had already been…I just stood there and cried, like a baby…completely moved by the bravery, the real-ness, the POWER each of these girls had claimed as their own and then had the courage to share with me, us, the world.

As I write to you this morning, I recognize, that with each passing year, I am more able to see with eyes wide open, the impact our efforts are having in the world. Fourteen years we’ve been at this and YES! The Girl Box, the imaginary space we, as adults might have bought into, believed and felt confined by, no longer exists for Jessie and Anna and the thousands and thousands of girls our program reaches. The cultural, systemic and individual change I dreamed of back in my early 30’s is truly occurring and Girls on the Run is playing a significant role in that change.

So there you have it. I’m done. The words have all been said. Now I just want to feel, embrace and be content with the silence, the wonder, the awesome Power within and that which we have come to know as Girls on the Run. When have you been left "without words." Tell me about it at molly@girlsontherun.org.

Batman Bill Wears Pink

So...just so you know...Batman Bill has brought an entirely new audience to www.mollyontherun.blogspot.com. If you don't know who Batman Bill is, read the blog entry just ahead of this one. He is fast becoming a Girls on the Run Legend.

I think THIS picture says it all! (Please note, that not only is the man sporting a pink shirt, but pink hair as well.)

Batman Bill

“A child’s hand in yours…what tenderness it arouses, what power it conjures. You are instantly the very touchstone of wisdom and strength.”
Marjorie Holmes

Today’s Blog Entry is going to be extraordinary…extraordinarily different. Different because I’m not going to write it. I’m going to use the words of someone who recently wrote to me about the impact the program has had on HIM. Yes…I did say HIM. I’m finding, seeing and feeling the impact this program is having on the men of this world, more and more every day. It’s such a beautiful, beautiful thing to see how many men have shown up, laced up their shoes and run, stride for stride, side by side, their little girls in all of the New Balance Girls on the Run 5k’s I’ve attended.

The letters and emails I get from these fabulous guys reinforce that love abounds in the hearts and minds of the men who take the time to tenderly tread that starting line with their daughters!

And so, please take the time to read the beautiful letter that follows. I asked Bill if it would be alright for me to share this and his response…”ABSOLUTELY!”
So here goes. Bill…you have NO idea how much your “man-influence” not only impacts the girls you directly serve, but all of us connected to Girls on the Run.
Rock on there, Mister.

“Dearest Molly,

My name is Bill or my coaching name the girls gave me is "Batman Bill". I am an assistant coach at Reidenbaugh elementary in the Lancaster, PA chapter. First I want to say, Carrie Johnson and Jennifer West are amazing directors and have made it so easy for us to focus on the girls and not the nitty gritty stuff. We are one week away from our 5K and there is a buzz of excitement around these parts.

I just wanted to share with you my experience from a "Mancoach's" point of view.

I got involved when I was looking for races to run, as I am training for the Athens Classic Marathon that is the 2500th anniversary of the birth of the marathon, It will actually be running on the original road from the town of Marathon to Athens, how cool is that?

I am not a runner, at least I wasn't when I decided to run a marathon. I literally started running the first week of December. So I am online one night in the winter and am looking up 5K races to sign up for to get some races under my belt and I see GOTR 5K. What’s this? So I read all about you and the program and was amazed.

I have three kids an 11 year old daughter, a 6 year old son and a 4 year old daughter. I was so impressed with the work that you are doing. I had to know if there was one in my daughter’s school. I emailed Jen and asked if my painting business could be a sponsor for the race and if they had a team at Reidenbaugh. I also wanted to know if there was any way I could volunteer as I believed that this was a worthy cause. Her response was yes, and yes, and she went on to say if I wanted to be a positive male role model, it would greatly be appreciated.

Wow! As you know it is tough to carve out two afternoons a week when you are in a contracting business, but worth every extra hour I had to tack on to other days to make up for the time.

It has been such a privilege to work with all these beautiful women. In today’s world, Dads are working long hours, or if they coach, it's a sport, soccer, T-ball, etc. but running? And it's not really coaching. It is encouraging, teaching, challenging, reflecting, being a role model, conversing. I think this job is way more fulfilling and harder as we tackle life's issues in these little lady’s lives. I think it is a tougher job than just coaching a sport. You have to be transparent and be completely real and not so tough, at least as a "Mancoach.”

It has taught me to be more compassionate and to understand my daughter more. Our relationship has grown exponentially. This has just been an amazing experience.

Last week we ran our practice 5K in the rain, all girls present completed it, the last girl to come in had many of her teammates run out and cheer her on as she came in. I started to tear up, but quickly hid it as I haven't completely climbed out of my "Boy Box.” I kid, but it truly changed me.

ME being the "fun Dad" and an energetic Adult ADD-er, I somehow introduced the Banana cheer earlier on in the season. So at the end of the 5K practice run, with many parents standing around, the girls begged me to lead the Banana cheer! I have to say it was not easy as a guy to do the Banana cheer let alone in front of parents, but it was very freeing.

That is one thing about GOTR. It is freeing. It helps these girls untie the chords that hold them in that box and allows them to stretch out their wings and fly.

Thank you so much for your sincerity, transparentness and passion. It truly shows to our girls and their parents all the way from the top.

So far as the Azalea T-shirt color this season, when I first heard that color, I thought, “You gotta be kidding me!” I never have and never will wear Pink! You can call it Azalea, but guys don't equate flowers with colors. It's pink and I don't want to wear it.

Well I wore it proudly on our practice 5K and many cars passed by the school as I was running, and I really don't care anymore what people think, because I have a healthier self image from this experience as well. Thanks Molly, I can't say it enough.

Bill Caloviras”

(I just re-read this again and feel myself tearing up…again. Oh my goodness, who would have EVER thought when I started this program, I’d be getting letters like this. Again…gratitude abounds.)

What moved you in Bill’s letter? Please let me know at molly@girlsontherun.org

The Joy of Being

Those who have not found their true wealth, which is the radiant joy of Being and the deep, unshakable peace that comes with it, are beggars, even if they have great material wealth. They are looking outside for scraps of pleasure or fulfillment, for validation, security, or love, while they have a treasure within that not only includes all those things but is infinitely greater than anything the world can offer.

Eckhart Tolle

Audrey Ashkin is a Girls on the Run coach. I had the opportunity to meet her recently at a site visit, right here in my hometown of Charlotte. Audrey shared with me, what I consider, a fabulous example of why working with girls is just so darn real. So here goes:

Audrey was running next to Katie. Katie is in 3rd grade and is definitely one of the fastest girls in their Girls on the Run group. Audrey, not being as fast-paced as 9 year old Katie, thought to herself, “The only way I am going to keep up with this girl is to get her talking while running at the same time This might actually slow her down a tad.” And so Audrey, being oh so wise and admittedly mildly manipulative asked Katie, "How do you run so fast?" Of course, Audrey was hoping for a long and dramatic soliloquy on the benefits of running, diet and a lengthy list of the extraordinary character traits required to be so self-disciplined. What she got instead was, undoubtedly one of the most brilliant and articulate responses possible.

"I just put one foot in front of the other and go.”

Ahhh…the simplicity of kidspeak. Somewhere around middle school, we begin to take on the stories of the grown-up world and feel this need to complicate things. I know for me, just enjoying running for the sake of running wasn’t enough. I had to start doing, performing, justifying my actions in order to explain myself. I had to compete, win, bring home a trophy, and create stories to prove who I was and why I did what I did. I couldn’t just be fast. Soon, this need to achieve, win and prove myself became evident in everything I did. Instead of being content and at peace with myself, I had to DO things to feel worthy and at peace with myself. I had to justify my existence by performing my way through life rather than being my way in it.

Recently on my flight home from St. Louis (after an extraordinary and uplifting two days with Jill Indovino, her fabulous staff, coaches and girls) I was seated across the aisle from Amanda. Amanda is about 10 months old. For some reason, Amanda enjoyed staring at me. What started off as a simple game of peek-a-boo turned into a full-frontal staring match. For at least ten minutes, the two of us just looked at one another. People around began to notice, but that didn’t distract either one of us from our mission. We were intrigued with the newness of each other. Amanda was (remember my last Word Up) is-ing and joyfully invited me into the “joy of being” with her for the ten minutes we spent staring at one another.

There is a great story about the Buddha. The Buddha was said to give a silent sermon during which he held up a flower and gazed at it. After a while, a monk who was present began to smile. He is said to be the only one who understood the sermon.

Don’t get it? Read on.

You see a child sitting alone in a sandbox at the park. She is crying. Her mother, who is quite young, is laughing and sitting in the lap of a young man on the park bench nearby. What stories do you create in your head about this situation?

How ‘bout this one? A 20-something girl is crying. Tears are flowing down her cheeks. A boy, close in age, is gesturing with his hands. He is pacing back and forth as he talks. What stories do you create in your head about THIS situation?
Let’s try one more. You wake up one morning and for no apparent reason, feel sad, down-in-the-dumps…some would say mildly depressed. What stories do you make up in your head to justify these feelings of sorrow?

What I love about working with girls in our program is their innocent way of just seeing things for what they are. “I feel sad. No need to know why. I just am.” They experience the sadness by noticing it, leaning into it and just being it. They feel no need to explain why, they just are. They see the facts and the real of a situation but don’t feel any need to justify or create stories to explain what they see. They just see it.

As the monk so eloquently saw the flower, beautifully and simply, so goes the view of an 8 year old. I put one foot in front of the other and go.

Lately, I’ve been excited each day to pause, breathe and observe the thoughts, internal-talk and stories I make up to explain a situation. I’m spending more time staring at the familiar, long enough until the story of it slips away. I am then able to see it through infant eyes, as Amanda saw me. She didn’t see Molly Barker, the founder of Girls on the Run, mother of Hank and Helen, woman, or plane-mate. No, she saw me…being. Plain, simple and present.

What stories have you told to explain, rationalize or justify something you saw, felt, did or heard? What happens when you take away the story and just see something/someone for what it/she/he is…I’d love to know.

That Girl's Not Fat: She's Big-Boned

“Heaven’s, no. That girl isn’t fat. She’s big-boned.” -Helen Wilmer

Do I dare do it? The topic is kind of scary. Actually it can sometimes be taboo. But I’m going to go for it because…well…because I have to for me, you and the girls in Girls on the Run.

Obesity.

Yep that’s right. And while we’re at it, let’s admit it. Obesity is the politically correct way to say fat. At Girls on the Run I’ve avoided the conversation because just the mere mention of the word “fat” can wreak havoc on a woman’s sense of worth.

Fat. There I said it. And it didn’t feel very good, either.

Merely a descriptive word, an adjective, fat is perhaps one of the most dreaded words in the English language. (As a matter of fact, in a survey recently conducted by the Girl Scouts of America, the numero uno fear of girls wasn’t nuclear war, their parents getting divorced or even bullying. Nope! It was getting fat.)

Even the mere mention of the word “fat” has become taboo.

“Shhh. Don’t call her fat. She isn’t fat she’s “Chunky.” “Big-boned.” “Strong.” “A Big Girl.” We are terrified of the word because of the shaming stories our culture tells about it and the people who are.

I’ve been traveling a lot lately. I’ve met many, many beautiful young girls. Inevitably we get around to discussing the importance of being “comfortable in our skin.”

“What do you think it means, to be comfortable in your skin?” I always ask.

The wisdom of 8 years olds always amazes me:

“To feel good about who you are.”

“Loving yourself.”

“It’s good to like yourself just the way you are.”

“To feel safe with your thoughts.”

So, to honor all those fabulous girls…yes all 62,000 of them that last year Girls on the Run had the privilege to share time with, I’d like to introduce an approach to the “obesity epidemic” that those fabulous girls…yes all 62,000 of them…have introduced to me.

I call it the “Just IS It” approach. (Trust me…just say it out loud and that alone will bring a smile to your face.)

Do this sometime. Watch an 8 year old girl. She floats. She runs. She twirls. She naturally moves through space with a flav-ahhhh (yes say it like that, for added impact) that is wonderfully and fabulously all her own.

Children this age are still very much surprised by their bodies and the amazing things they can do. They love to dance, jump and skip, totally uninhibited. They are surprised when they successfully pull off a double turn and successfully land on both feet. “See? Did you see what I just did?” They move through space with a sparkle in their eye--a curiosity to see, feel and experience the space around them.

They are perfectly content with themselves and the minute they are in. Eight year olds are just so darn good at “is-ing.”

I consider the challenges I’ve faced over the years seeking that kind of peace with myself. Somewhere around sixth grade I forgot how to “is”—to be content just being who I am.

The Girl Box didn’t help. Over the years our Girl Box culture reinforced the made-up notion that peace comes from somewhere outside oneself.

“Buy this, try this, use this and then you will feel good.”

Well, go figure. I don’t know a single 8 year old girl who spends much time thinking about the kind of car she drives, the fullness of her lips or her hips or the size of her bank account or breasts. These have all just been distractions, a crazy kind of obsession with the external…distractions that have kept me from what really matters, like loving, feeling the sun on my face and dancing in the living room with my fourteen year old son, Hank.

One little girl put it so succinctly several years ago. Think of your body as some kind of fabulous little sports car…or if you prefer a hybrid, a stretch limo or in my case, a small fuel-efficient, powerful get-around-kind-of-economy-car.

Riding around inside that skin (car) YOU are in, is the BIG YOU…the unique you that is big, bold and beautiful! Nourishing, fueling and taking care of the vehicle (body) that houses that fabulous YOU allows your body to stick around long enough so that the YOU riding around in there actually has time enough to dance, enjoy life, love, evolve and as our children do so well…“is”!

Get it? We are not concerned with physical fitness because we want to look a certain way.

We do it to nourish, fuel and love our bodies so that the BIG YOU on the inside, has the ability to thrive, flourish and find its way out into the world before the body can no longer sustain itself.

Healthy weight management is a very complex issue in a culture that focuses on the external.

The physical way we, particularly women, show up in the world is often a determinant of our “success” in the world. But I’m convinced that Girls on the Run is onto something. The more opportunities we provide for girls and women (heck ALL people) to focus on, celebrate and honor the BIG YOU resting within…right there on the inside…the better care we naturally end up giving to the outside. The more time we spend using words which celebrate and create safe spaces to honor WHO WE REALLY ARE, the less time we spend shaming, judging or damaging the bodies that house them. The shift in focus to the beauty within really does create a beautiful “without.”

So today…consider the following question. How will you nourish, fuel and care for the skin you’re in, so your big, bold and bodacious YOU can get out into the world? How will you implement the “Just Is It” body plan?!!!

Muscular Empathy

(Photo from www.realmensproject.org. To learn more about their amazing work visit their website.)

I want you to meet a new friend of mine. His name is Bill Drayton.

I had the opportunity to spend some time with Bill the last several days at the Ashoka Future Forum. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Boh9zKQl5oc) Bill is the Founder of Ashoka.

On Tuesday afternoon, I sat down with Bill, several other Ashoka Fellows and staff and some fabulous folks from the Knight Foundation. (www.knightfoundation.org)

The topic was empathy.

Bill Drayton founded Ashoka 30 years ago. Ashoka supports the work of social entrepreneurs from across the globe. Bill believes, as do I, that a big idea in the hands of a social entrepreneur can literally transform the world. Instead of fixing what is broken, a social entrepreneur creates something new altogether. Currently Ashoka has supported, inspired and connected approximately 2000 fellows. I am fortunate enough to be one of those.

Thirty years of carefully examining the connections that bind us, one to the other, has led Bill to see how empathy is the one significant thread that weaves its way through the tapestry of all of the fellows’ works. Every Ashoka fellow is gifted with the ability to view multiple perspectives…to see through the lens of another…to walk in someone else shoes and in my words…love deeply, authentically and wholly.

I was moved several times in the middle of that meeting, but at one point I could no longer contain my tears. I was as present as I’ve ever been.

I realize that my entire life has been focused on elevating the power of the feminine. (The feminine can be honored and held by both women AND men). Tuesday afternoon,I participated in a dialogue where nine very influential men and women understood that power. A part of me rejoiced in knowing that from the spheres of influence seated at that table, something grand was happening. Something grand IS happening.

At last the power of empathy, compassion and love are, indeed, rising up to a new level of awareness across all sub-groups of our world, including the world of men

Bill Drayton is leading that crusade.

I've often felt like a bull in a china shop trying to force empathy, love and compassion on the power-elite...and have known all along that forcing these concepts on anyone will never work. Yesterday I saw and FELT the power of empathy at work in the room and know that as long as we all hang onto IT…as long as we unabashedly claim it as our own and as a driving force behind the work that we do, we will be living the very thing that will bring about the shift we are looking for. In theory, (my idealism is talking now) not only will individuals be at peace with themselves and their neighbors, but so too will nations. As Gandhi said..."Be the change."

And so, today I honor the men, Bill Drayton included, who are willing to talk, live and practice empathy. I am going to intentionally recognize and express my gratitude to the men in my life who so openly share their love, compassion and tenderness with those around them.

As a reminder of the power of empathy, I find myself needing to re-tell, re-mind and re-honor this father…this man who so epitomizes the power of “muscular empathy” a phrase we coined during that meeting. So here goes...this one's for Bill.


His name is Paul. He is 39 years old. A handsome professional man, Paul drives a BMW and wears custom suits with starched crisp white button-down shirts. He is respected and reserved. Yet little known to his friends is the hell in which he has lived. You see, 8 years ago his wife, his life partner and best friend died. She died giving birth to their daughter Shelby.

Shelby’s entrance into this world wasn’t easy. For hours, over 20 innocent and vulnerable hours, Shelby and her mom worked tirelessly to take her from the warm safe waters of her mother’s womb to this world. So when Shelby was finally lifted into this world, her mother went on to the next.

Paul’s world isn’t what he had expected: the crisp starch of his collar, the million-dollar home and a daughter, who looked like every other 8-year old, but had the intellectual and conceptual understanding of a 4-year old.

His life felt like hell. It’s hard work being a single Daddy with a developmentally delayed little girl. Every morning as he would gently brush her hair, Shelby would tell him stories--stories that break a father’s heart. Stories of how she is afraid to speak sometimes, because the other students at her school make fun of her. Stories of how they call her dummy or generally disregard her as anything, but a nuisance. Paul didn’t know what else to do and so when the Girls on the Run brochure floated home in her book bag, he enrolled her. Shelby’s spirit soared at Girls on the Run. Her teammates understood her uniqueness and accepted her not in spite of it, but because of it.

Over the program-weeks, Shelby had come to trust her teammates. They weren’t like the other girls at school. They didn’t make fun of her. They wrapped their little souls around her and walked her through the Girls on the Run games and activities. The Girls on the Run girls were different. They listened to her when she had something to say and they saw the humanness of her. They valued her for who she was.

On this particular day, Shelby was running in her first Girls on the Run 5k and her father was there to see her. I stood at the finish line cheering clapping and high-fiving girls as they crossed that finish line. One hour later every girl had finished. “No wait,” the police escort informed us. There is one more little girl. And so while most folks had moved on to the after-party in the nearby park a handful of us waited.

When off in the distance I saw a little figure walking, as if on a mission. Her arms pumping beside her like pistons. Her blonde pigtails flopped on either side. Her coaches were beside her, smiling and crying. Slowly word spread that Shelby was finishing and one by one folks returned to the finish line. As Shelby made her way up that last stretch of road, hundreds of people ran to take their place roadside.

The momentum was building and then as if directed to do so I looked to my right and there dead center in the finish line stood Paul. His starched shirt, khaki pants and polished loafers. His hair was perfectly placed. Shelby’s jacket was neatly draped across his left arm.

The man was stoic, reserved, empty eyed… and alone.

And then without warning, this man, this brave, brave man dropped to his knees…Shelby’s coat falling to the asphalt below…and with wild abandon, he lifted his arms to the heavens above and wept from the depths of his soul. Tears were flowing down his cheeks to the earth below, like small blessings on the path of his daughter’s approaching feet.

I won’t ever be able to shake the image of this man as he fell to his knees, surrendering his pain, revealing his willingness to shed the external armor of a man trapped in the box of cultural success and apathy, to expose his soul, his core, his vulnerabilities. To welcome his little girl, Shelby, as she ran to him, there at the finish line. Welcome her with his arms around her small body. Welcome her to this new life, this new heaven, the one in which they could inhabit peacefully together.

Running is no longer a means to an end, but a powerful metaphor for what could be.

Empathy, Hope. Joy. Determination. Compassion. Strength and of course the greatest of these…Love.

And so…please, I want...no I need…. the hope that each of you possess. Send me your stories of those men in your life…who have empathetically given, revealed and lived love. Let’s honor them. Now, in this space, this time and invite them to share themselves with the world of Girls on the Run.

Baking Cakes, Peace and Running

“Joy is not in things. It is in us.”

Richard Wagner

Not too long ago, I was driving in my car, serving in the capacity of what currently feels like my most significant role as the mother to two children: chauffeur. And while sometimes I feel like that is the extent of their use for me, particularly as they enter the teenage years, I realize that the car is a fabulous place to engage their sponge-like minds and have conversations that might otherwise not happen. I mean, they are captive for whatever length of time I have them in the vehicle!

“You know, you guys hear me all the time talking about doing the things in life that bring us joy. For example, you both know that my work brings me a great deal of joy. I love working with kids, the volunteers and the staff at Girls on the Run.

So, what brings you two the most joy?”

Hank, immersed in a skateboarding magazine, was riding “shotgun”, in the front seat next to me and Helen was fiddling with her I-Pod in the backseat of the car.
Hank, now a young man, lives, breathes and eats skateboarding. He didn’t even look up, pause or take a breath.

“Skateboarding, of course.” His response was to the point, simple and clear. The tone of his voice was monotone and the sound of it was in that new and fabulous man-pitch that comes with being almost fifteen.

“Helen? How ‘bout you? What brings you the most joy?”

Everything Helen does and says exudes a kind of glitter, pop and fizz. She stopped messing with her I-Pod, and looked up from her throne in the backseat to make eye contact with me in the rearview mirror.

“Mother (interject sing-song kind of voice with twinge of exasperation), I’m only 11. How am I supposed to know what brings me joy?”

I drove along for another minute or so, just letting the silence sink in a bit.

Hank turned another page and Helen fiddled a bit more with her I-Pod.

We are driving along, for at least another good five minutes, when I hear from Helen, who is now staring somewhat dreamily out of the window. “Although I will say, that baking cakes does set my spirit free.”

This is when, as a mother, coach or teacher it becomes almost painfully difficult to not laugh out loud. Her choice of words was so…well…so like something I would have said.

Needless to say, I dropped Hank off at the skate shop and proceeded to go with Helen to the grocery store. We bought six different cake mixes and all the ingredients necessary to make icing from scratch. Later that afternoon, I watched her working in the kitchen, battling bowls with wooden spoons and measuring utensils. The girl was clearly as close to nirvana as one can get.

In my younger days, running was that place of joy for me. I’ll admit that at times it was joyful because it provided me with an opportunity to escape much of the chaos I was creating with the imaginary stories I was telling around relationships, work and family. I was running from rather than to.

Now, though, the joy I get from running isn’t the escape it provides, but the peace it brings...the presence within me that I feel when I run. When I run I feel beautiful, powerful, and real. The pieces of me that I share throughout the day are all assimilated back into one beautiful tapestry . . . one amazing piece of reality . . . one experience that is mine and mine alone. The physicality of it provides me with a powerful reminder that my body is capable, strong, powerful, and MINE.

Every time I run, I make a statement to the world, "I own my action, my body, my thoughts, and my experiences. I do not and will not buy into the stories which objectify, sexualize, diminish, or dominate me. I am real. I am human. I am spirit manifest within this strong, healthy, and beautiful physical body. I honour that which rests within me and in doing so feel and choose joy.”

When I run, I rise above the stories which define and limit my joy and go to a space where the stories are not only diminished but eliminated. My mind becomes empty and the joy of just being...present, within and real...can find a home there.

As I get older, I realize that it isn’t the running, in and of itself that brings me joy. No, joy comes when I willingly recognize and let go of the stories I tell and buy-into about myself and the world around me. Joy comes when I just am...present...being...at peace.

I can find joy even in the simple things:

Folding my children’s clothes...I feel the soft fabric beneath my finger tips as I tenderly and lovingly place shirts and shorts in their dresser drawers;

Waiting in traffic...observing the people in the cars around me, watching the stop light go from red to green, seeing for the first time the flower garden rising up, roadside, planted there by a local community group;

Washing dishes...feeling the warm water across my hands, seeing the bubbles emerge from water, towel to pan, pan to shelf, good meal in my belly;

I will run today, feel the warm sun on my shoulders, hear my breathing, and feel my feet on the ground. Joy will be there, as she always is, patiently waiting for me to clear out some space and let her in.

What brings you joy? When are you most joyful? Are there areas of your life that seem joy-less? What could you do differently to possibly find the joy that is hiding there? Let me know at molly@girlsontherun.org.