My blog post about health was supposed to go up on November 5th, but I just couldn’t figure out what to write, so I kept stalling. On Instagram, I combined laughter and health into one post since the two are proven to be related, but here I wanted to stick to my goal of writing a separate entry for each gratitude theme.

Of course, the more I tried to figure out what to write about, the more frustrated I got and just put off writing altogether, even though I promised myself to try to write on my blog every day this month.

Finally last night, I expressed this frustration to my friend Lauren over a glass of wine (very healthy choice, obv). Without skipping a beat, she looked at me and said,

“You’re a runner. Isn’t that a part of your health journey?”

Running! Why that hadn’t come to my mind is beyond me, but it made so much sense (thanks for the inspo, Lauren!).

Running has been a saving grace for me, both physically and mentally. Before I got into running about ten years ago, I had never considered myself to be an athletic person. I was on the Kickline team in high school, but that was pretty much it from Kindergarten through college. I used to be self-conscious about not being on any sort of sports team, and considered joining track or cross-country multiple times, but always psyched myself out in the end. I wasn’t in great shape physically, and just didn’t think I had what it took to be a runner.

Fast forward to the summer of 2011. A guy I had been seeing decided that he didn’t want anything serious, and ended things with me. I was really upset, and didn’t know how to cope, so I put on my sneakers and went outside. My parents’ house is situated on a cul-de-sac, so I started by running around the circle, rounding the corner to the street that lay perpendicular to mine.

Anddd I stopped, totally winded. That circle isn’t very big, and here I was practically dry heaving in front of my seventy-year old neighbor and her two prized Afghan show dogs. I felt pathetic, but I eventually trudged on, walking a little bit of the next street over until I regained control of my breathing. I tried to run some more, until I exhausted myself again. I followed this pattern, alternating between walking, running, and performing some sort of terrifying combo of the dry heave/air gasp until I finally made it back to my house. That was just under a mile and a half, complete. It sure as hell wasn’t perfect, but I did it.

Over the next few months, I added in a second lap of the same route. Slowly, the amount of ground that I walked became less, and I was able to run for longer distances. My stamina was actually increasing! I began to feel better about my personal life, too. Endorphins are a powerful tool, and running was doing wonders for my mental health.

My first big celebration came when I was able to run my entire original route without stopping once. I remember getting back to my driveway and feeling SO proud and accomplished that I had finally run that course straight through. Soon, I was able to run the route twice over without stopping, completing almost three miles. That was virtually a 5k- maybe I could do this running thing!

It took awhile for me to get the nerve to enter a race, but I finally signed up for my first 5k in September of 2016. I was nervous, but I loved the energy that seemed to radiate through the crowd of runners that morning. I successfully crossed the finish line, and was hooked.

To date, I’ve now completed a full marathon, six half marathons, countless 5ks, and four team Ragnar relay races. I am amazed at what my body has shown that it can endure, and that I proved my teenage, self-doubting days wrong.

I’ve also learned my limits. A second full marathon won’t be in the cards for me unless I want to have a knee replacement before I turn forty. But that’s alright. There’s something powerful in accepting what your body can and can’t do, and I’m extremely grateful for my health and the ability to keep on running at my own pace.

‘til next time,

Lau

P.S. The cover photo for this entry is part of a series of pics (shown below) that were taken at the end of the Great South Bay half marathon this past September. This man was a complete stranger , but a couple hundred feet before the finish line we crossed paths and motivated each other to reach the end. We ended up running the last steps of the race together, crossing the finish line at the same time! It was one of my favorite running moments ever.

My laugh has gotten me into trouble more times than I can count. When I find something to be hilarious, I won’t just laugh about it for a minute and move on. I’ll continue to think back to it after everyone else has gotten over it, and start giggling again…and again.

It probably comes as no surprise that this stellar trait didn’t exactly go over well in school. I may not have been the class clown, but I was still laughing at what the class clown did long after the teacher had calmed everyone down and gotten the class back on task.

This continued past high school and into grad school, too. I met an incredible group of people there who I’m still extremely close with, and our friend Alex is one of the funniest humans I’ve ever met. At least once a day in class he would say a comment or make some sort of facial expression that had the rest of us dying. I have a memory of myself and my friend Candice gripping the sides of our desks so tightly to keep from laughing out loud that the desks were actually shaking. Needless to say, I got some looks from my professors over those two years. Oops.

Laughter is something that I- now a teacher myself- need to be cognizant of with my students. I pride myself on having a really fun classroom dynamic, and we do laugh a lot in my classes. In my experience, that’s been essential to increasing student motivation year-round. However, there are times when I need to calm my kids down to move on, and I DO get frustrated with those who are still laughing when it’s really, really time to get back on task. It’s easy to forget sometimes that those kids are, well…me. 

Through this, I’ve also been able to put myself in my former teachers’ shoes. I now understand why they would give me looks or call me out for laughing. Keeping twenty-something twelve and thirteen-year olds on task for forty straight minutes is not easy! They’re silly, quirky, hormonal, inquisitive…which makes for some really great days, and some really challenging days. But even on those challenging days, when I really think about it, I’m grateful for their laughter. There are moments when they have me in stitches- I can’t make up half of the hilarious times I’ve had over the last nine years.

 So, I guess that means that even when it’s frustrating me, the laughter’s gotta stay. I know I’m personally gonna keep on laughing, even if it gets me in trouble from time to time. Without laughter, life’s just dull.

‘til next time,

Lau

I have a distinct memory of being at a family gathering when I was younger, maybe 15 or so years ago, and having a discussion about color. That’s not usually a hot topic of conversation during Thanksgiving or Christmas, so this one stuck with me.

“What if what I think of as the color red, is really the color green to someone else? And my green is really the color blue to a different person?” my cousin Lisa mused. It generated a long conversation, with no consensus made at the end.

My teenage mind was blown.

Actually, my adult mind is still blown over this possibility. Is what I see as blue the same blue that others see? What about colors associated with holidays? Halloween just passed- everyone knows orange, black and hints of purple and green are traditional Halloween colors…and we’re all viewing the same hues. Right?

I guess I don’t know for sure, and I’m certainly no science whiz, but I think I’ll go out on a limb and say that- within a few shades differentiated by vision- those of us who can see color are all viewing the same general spectrum.

Whether or not that’s true, I’m exceedingly grateful for color, especially during this time of year. Seeing nature go ablaze in autumn is something I look forward to with fervent joy. There’s something about taking a walk in a park, surrounded by the characteristic reds, oranges, and yellows that just hits differently. There’s a certain smell and chill in the air unmatched by any other time. Perhaps it’s the excitement of the holiday season to come- or perhaps it’s just enjoying nature’s last show before it hibernates for winter. Either way, I hope those colors never fade.

‘til next time,

Lau