Each summer my family spends one week at a lake house on the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma. By “outskirts,†I mean that the local grocery store is the Dollar General. Starbucks? Forget about it.
This remote locale also happens to be the only place in the world where I truly enjoy running. Although it always takes a couple of days to regain a good rhythm, I adore my little lakeside route. Here, pelicans serve as jogging partners, cicadas buzz playlists, paddlefish splash encouragement, and waterfront cottages serve as guideposts. I might as well be running in a Nicholas Sparks novel.
Sadly, I tend to emulate something a little less Sparksian, and a little more Miss Piggy-in-a-boxing-match. My limbs flail. My breath heaves. My muscles burn. It’s uninspiring to say the least. But, this summer was different. This summer, I was completely surprised to discover that I have actually improved as a runner. Even in the midst of ninety-degree Oklahoma humidity, I moved at a steady and enjoyable pace. My body is in better shape than years past.
My mind, however, is another story….”
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