{"id":5043,"date":"2017-04-12T00:02:18","date_gmt":"2017-04-12T06:02:18","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.mops.org\/?p=5043"},"modified":"2017-04-12T00:02:18","modified_gmt":"2017-04-12T06:02:18","slug":"running-for-my-life","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/running-for-my-life\/","title":{"rendered":"Running For My Life"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>\u201cHey Mom, you need to write about your running,\u201d said my 10-year-old son. \u201cTell people why you run so much.\u201d We were walking home from church, kicking ice balls down the sidewalk. I shivered a little harder. My son had been reading my mind again. At sunrise that morning, I\u2019d been writing about running, an activity I rarely put into words.<\/p>\n<p>\u2026<\/p>\n<p>For the last 30 years, I\u2019ve been running \u2013 everywhere. I\u2019ve run up and down Syracuse University campus, through hot Michigan fields and towns, down the lakeshore of Chicago, up steep hilly trails of Marin County, along long New England roads. I\u2019ve jogged across the magnificent Golden Gate Bridge and beside the banks of a misty gray Lake Z\u00fcrich in Switzerland.<\/p>\n<p>And as I\u2019ve grown, I\u2019ve run through hard stuff. I\u2019ve squinted and huffed through snow, rain and sleet. I\u2019ve pressed my fists and mind through disapproval, heartbreak, depression, job loss, sexist bosses, through a squishy postpartum body, insomnia, parental stress, an ill child, through crime and betrayal.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWhat are you running from?\u201d one trainer once asked me as she rubbed a knot in my hip. \u201cYour body isn\u2019t made for this,\u201d she added. \u201cYou shouldn\u2019t have so much pain.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>But my running isn\u2019t about avoiding discomfort. I run to press through hard stuff \u2013 to find bones and muscles, alive against pavement, upright in a big, complicated world. I run to pump and sweat out false messages and expectations that hang on me, blind me and confine me from living the life I\u2019ve been blessed to receive.<\/p>\n<p>Sure, I run to stay fit. But also I run from hopelessness \u2013 I run from the myths that moms should be sweet and tidy and happy and smooth and young and beautiful; that bad schools can never change; that hunger and poverty and homelessness will never end; that a mother can\u2019t help her child without giving him medication. I run from racism and stereotypes about women, kids, classes, religions, races and political parties. I run from all the stupid things I\u2019ve said and done and from every thought of mine that has growled, \u201cYou can\u2019t do that. You can\u2019t change that.\u201d I run from lack of faith, from broken friendships, from selfishness; from jealousy and pride and self-hate, from guilt and greed.<\/p>\n<p>When I run, I always find a destination. But the trick is, the destination evolves as I move forward. It unveils as I stretch my limbs, warming up with the sky, as I abandon all that holds me back \u2013 my destination comes as I live.<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\">I run toward the sound of my breath pulling in oxygen like the trees do.<br \/>\nI run toward the birds calling, the breeze blowing, the voices of people in my life whom I couldn\u2019t hear before.<br \/>\nI run toward the light breaking through thousands of lacy branches and snowflakes across hillsides that I was too busy to notice.<br \/>\nI run to the places where I\u2019m needed but I\u2019ve ignored; the children who are overlooked, the mom who could use a phone call, the stranger I didn\u2019t smile at, the family needing me to ask, \u201cHow can I help?\u201d<br \/>\nI run toward the person whom I must forgive, toward the story I\u2019ve got to write, toward the voice I\u2019ve shoved down inside of me wanting to shout, \u201cThat is WRONG,\u201d without worrying about popularity.<br \/>\n\u201cYou need to breathe. Calm down. Relax,\u201d someone might say. But for me, running is relaxing. It\u2019s where I find God.<br \/>\n\u201cI hate running,\u201d another friend says.<br \/>\n\u201cI can\u2019t run. My knees,\u201d another says.<br \/>\n\u201cThen don\u2019t run,\u201d I reply.<\/p>\n<p>But seek that thing your body and mind must do to sift out the broken, jagged pieces of our world cutting and dragging you down. Sing or swim, pray or walk, write or paint or do downward dogs. Take a million photos. Dance the hula. Do something until you ache, until you taste your own salty sweat, until you touch your soft soul \u2013 free again.<\/p>\n<p>As for me, when I\u2019m sick or injured or when I\u2019m really, really old \u2013 I\u2019ll keep running, even if only in my mind. I\u2019ll huff and puff and fight toward the bright, gorgeous hope waiting for me every day \u2013 if I run relentlessly toward it.<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignleft size-full wp-image-3175\" src=\"http:\/\/www.hellodearest.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/06\/AmyChallenger_x125.jpg\" alt=\"AmyChallenger_x125\" width=\"125\" height=\"125\" \/>Amy Aves Challenger is a writer and artist focusing on topics relating to the marginalized, families and children. She has been published regularly in <em>The Huffington Post<\/em> and also in <em>The Washington Post<\/em>, <em>Mamalode.com<\/em>, and <em>Brain, Child Magazine<\/em>. Her poems and a short story will be published in an upcoming anthology by <em>Kind of A Hurricane Press<\/em>. Amy lives in Fairfield, CT where she runs a support group for special needs mothers and also leads a writing workshop. She is writing her first novel about a child with special needs. Her poetry can be read daily on twitter @amychallenger.<\/p>\n<hr \/>\n<p><em><img decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-5022 size-full alignleft\" src=\"http:\/\/www.hellodearest.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/04\/MMag_winter-2017blog-footer_image.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"195\" height=\"250\" \/><\/em><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>This article originally appeared in the Spring\u00a02017 issue of <em>The MOPS Magazine<\/em>. If you didn\u2019t get a copy and would like your own, you can\u00a0<a href=\"http:\/\/www.mops.org\/membership\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>subscribe<\/em><\/a><em>\u00a0<\/em>to get<em> The MOPS Magazine <\/em>in your mailbox every season. If you subscribe, forward your receipt to\u00a0<em><a href=\"mailto:magazines@mops.org\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">magazines@mops.org<\/a><\/em>\u00a0and we\u2019ll shoot a copy of the current issue in the mail to you for free \u2026 just because we like you.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>\u201cHey Mom, you need to write about your running,\u201d said my 10-year-old son. \u201cTell people why you run so much.\u201d We were walking home from church, kicking ice balls down the sidewalk. I shivered a little harder. My son had been reading my mind again. At sunrise that morning, I\u2019d been writing about running, an [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":177,"featured_media":5044,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","_seopress_robots_follow":"","_seopress_robots_imageindex":"","_seopress_robots_snippet":"","_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"0","_seopress_robots_breadcrumbs":"","_seopress_robots_freeze_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_custom_modified_date":"","_seopress_robots_canonical":"","_seopress_social_fb_title":"","_seopress_social_fb_desc":"","_seopress_social_fb_img":"","_seopress_social_fb_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_fb_img_height":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_title":"","_seopress_social_twitter_desc":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img":"","_seopress_social_twitter_img_attachment_id":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_width":0,"_seopress_social_twitter_img_height":0,"_seopress_redirections_value":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled":"","_seopress_redirections_enabled_regex":"","_seopress_redirections_logged_status":"","_seopress_redirections_param":"","_seopress_redirections_type":0,"_seopress_analysis_target_kw":"","_seopress_news_disabled":"","_seopress_video_disabled":"","_seopress_video":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas_manual":[],"_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable_all":"","_seopress_pro_rich_snippets_disable":[],"_seopress_pro_schemas":[],"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[117],"tags":[454,381,198,863,48,55,56,631,1060],"class_list":["post-5043","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-wellness","tag-change","tag-hope","tag-life","tag-live","tag-loss","tag-mom","tag-motherhood","tag-pain","tag-run"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5043","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/177"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5043"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5043\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5043"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5043"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.themom.co\/fr\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5043"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}