Financial Aid Season

Believe it or not, we are done editing and submitting college applications in the Bottom Line Worcester office! Though I feel that this year's "packaging season," as we call it, went by pretty quickly, I'm also content to know that my brain can move on and do something besides scour essays and applications for mistakes. 

January is the beginning of financial aid season. We've been talking with our students all year about what makes schools more or less affordable, and now we will begin the process of applying for the public and private funding they will need to make it to the next step of their lives. 

There are a lot of myths and misinformation floating around about financial aid. This year, a student said that she did not plan to apply for financial aid since her cousin told her that she would "still have to pay anyways." When I explained that just filling out the FAFSA could be the difference between paying $2,000 per year or over $20,000 (and possibly over $50,000), she was dumbfounded. We've heard less extreme, but equally unnerving misinformation coming from our students' parents, and even guidance counselors. 

Now that I have seen two classes of students through this process, I firmly believe that coming up with a college list that has many realistically affordable options is the best service we can provide for our students. However, every year we have students who refuse to take our advice and attempt to attend a school that we know is not going to be affordable for them in the long run.

This spring, a classmate and I used Bottom Line data to find out how many of our students drop out of college due to financial hardship, and determine whether financial aid had any significant impact on our students' college graduation rates. You may be able to guess the answer (hint: just read the link below), but here is the report that Bottom Line put together on the issue, which was picked up by Wheelock College's Aspire Institute:

http://info.wheelock.edu/aspirewire/bid/166650/Financial-barriers-a-severe-hindrance-to-higher-education-access

Do you think it's important for students to have access to accurate financial aid information and resources? Please consider making a donation to my marathon fundraiser to help Bottom Line serve more students in Massachusetts! http://www.crowdrise.com/teambottomline/fundraiser/michelleeaston/

Phase Two: Initiated

After a bit of a break following my half marathon, I am happy to say that I am finally back at it. Last weekend, I met the other members of the Bottom Line marathon team at the first Marathon Coalition run of the year. I'll be building up mileage with this group every Saturday from now until race day. While it is a comforting familiarity to be back on a running schedule, I must say that getting my individual runs in during the week has become an additional challenge, since the morning temperature has dropped about 40 degrees since I was last training. While it was once easy to get myself motivated and out the door to avoid running in the 90-degree heat, I now find myself pushing my runs later and later in the morning, praying that the temperature might edge above freezing before I have to step outside. I have also come to the conclusion that I may need to change my favorite running route. I used to be able to head out the door and zone out; my feet already knew where to avoid the cracks in the sidewalk, the bushes that stuck out too far, and the ever-present broken glass on some street corners. I've recently noticed, however, that my route was so enjoyable in the summer because it is shady and breezy--two things I am NOT looking for at 8am in December.

Though I am glad I trained over the summer to test my limits and build confidence in my ability to take on this greater challenge, I can tell that marathon training will be a different kind of beast. Our running coach already has me making small tweaks to my running form, meaning I do considerably more thinking about my running, which brings on new kinds of muscle soreness and mental exhaustion. I will be spending this month learning all over again how to psych myself up in the morning, to plan my running schedule around my relatively unpredictable work schedule, and to push myself on the pavement every time I'm out there. Establishing the routine is half the battle. Bring it on, phase two.

Another Look at the Costs of College

WBUR is following one of our Boston students, Emily Soto, through her senior year of high school. Read about her personal journey with Bottom Line and hear another point of view about why students need our program.

http://www.wbur.org/2012/11/21/college-cost-financial-aid

Rower's Revenge

Though it has taken me until this year to define myself as an athlete, the truth is that I already had over eight years of racing experience under my belt as a coxswain. 


The coxswain, for those of you unfamiliar with the sport of rowing, is the person who sits in the stern of the boat, screaming and steering. He or she is the on-board coach during a rowing team's practices and races. Though I was initially recruited for the position because I was, as my mother likes to remind me, "small and loud," I soon learned that it also required a delicate balance between proving to my teammates that I was worthy of their respect and forcing them to push themselves when it mattered. Even the best coxswains, who get to know what motivates each individual rower, have upset this balance at one time or another, and I'm sure every rower out there can vividly remember a dozen instances where they would have gladly murdered the tiny person dragging behind them, barking orders. [If we're Facebook friends, you can check out the video above, where at about 0:50, I am doing just that.]

One of the most beloved rowing traditions is that a winning team gets to throw their coxswain into the (often ice-cold) water. Even when a team is victorious, there's still a little spite left over for the coxswain.

Keep in mind, this is Maine. In April.

My teams, both in high school and college, taught me what it meant to race. I saw the commitment it took to achieve the results they wanted. I knew what it meant to empty the tanks and leave it all on the river. I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck when the racing was so tight that the leader changed with every stroke through the water. I watched them go back into the gym after a blowing defeat with a new kind of determination set in their faces. After all these years of bracing against the foot plates, pressing in vain on an imaginary gas pedal, I finally have the opportunity to run my own race. We'll see which one is worse for my knees.

The thing that strikes me most about the difference between a rowing race and a road race, however, is how easy it is to feel alone when I am running. In the boat, each person has to work as part of a unit, and there is a single race plan that everyone carries out together. Out on the pavement, I find traces of the coxswain in me, who tells me to find a rhythm, hold my head up, and breathe, but there's no captain to shout encouragement from the middle of the boat, no audible growl ripping through throats as everyone commits to making the same move, no satisfaction to come from the sounds of eight oars moving in perfect unison. It turns out, when I'm my own coxswain, it's tougher to be a hard ass.

It was this realization that led me to think of my latest fundraising opportunity. I call it Rower's Revenge.

In exchange for a donation to my marathon, I will be allowing my former rowers to get back at me for the miscalculated finishes (YES, we all remember that time at Bowdoin), the incessant reminders to move your hands up and get your catches in, or the cruelly timed voice in your ear that "you can do better" during an erg test.

For a $35 donation, you may design a cross-training or core workout (up to 75 minutes), or speed workout (up to 6 miles) that I will complete during my 5-month training period. I have only been through one Deck of Cards in my life, but I have a feeling that's about to change.

For a $75 donation, you may design a workout based on the parameters above, and I will travel up to 200 miles so that you can cox me through it.

This opportunity is not just open to my former rowers, however; other rowers, coaches, and sadistic friends are also welcome to participate.

Make your donation at http://www.crowdrise.com/TeamBottomLine/fundraiser/michelleeaston, and I will be in touch via e-mail to get the details of your workout and, if necessary, coordinate a mutually agreed-upon date that fits into my training and travel schedules.

Let's get to it! I have 26.2 miles to crush and $7,500 to raise.

And so it begins...

I warned you! My fundraising page is officially up and running and I am ready to start taking donations and cranking out miles. Check it out here! This is decidedly the most ambitious endeavor I have ever taken on, so it is only fitting that my fundraising goal be just as ambitious. I aim to raise $7,500 for Bottom Line by April.

If you have read my posts in the past, you already know how deeply I care about Bottom Line and the work that we do with our students. To me, there is nothing more important than making sure our young people have the resources and support that they need to make it to college.

I see education as an investment. It's a financial and metaphorical investment made by students who pour years of their time and energy into their dream of having a better future. Teachers, families, and counselors invest their time and resources to fuel a budding passion for chemistry, or the arts, and help each student find the right path. But I believe the kind of large-scale educational success that Bottom Line works toward also requires investment from the wider community: You. Our collective future depends on these students. They will be the next politicians, environmentalists, philosophers and entrepreneurs. Having a college degree will certainly benefit those individual students, but having a college-educated workforce will benefit all of us in the long run. I am asking you to support me in this endeavor because I believe that education is the one investment we cannot afford not to make.

But enough from me. You've heard my side of the story. If you have a few minutes, check out this compilation of thank-yous from the Bottom Line high school class of 2012. They speak for themselves.

Phase One: Complete

This weekend, I successfully completed my first half marathon. Not only did I survive the act of carrying myself 13.1 miles, but I completely crushed even my most ambitious personal goal of beating two hours, finishing in 1:55:00. Looking back at my nearly four-month training calendar, I don't regret one workout or rest day. Building up my mileage was definitely a challenge, but I now trust that I am capable of sticking to a schedule and building strength for the marathon. I am shocked to see that I somehow overlooked the fact that I ran nearly 100 miles in July, and again in August, despite my knee injury.

Though the last four miles were pretty rough (especially since I didn't see the mile markers for 11 or 12), there was no doubt in my mind throughout the race that I could maintain a constant effort until the end. Though I'd never done a long run at that pace, my speed workouts (along with the knowledge that I would have some time off after I finished) kept me going. I remember glancing at my watch just after mile 10 and being amazed that I could run 10-minute miles to the finish and still break 2 hours. Even better, we really did get Twizzlers, and I didn't experience even one second of knee pain.

Today, I turn in my official application to run for the Bottom Line marathon team, "Team Go Far." Thank you all for your support so far, and I apologize in advance for the fundraising blast that's about to start. Hopefully what you've read so far has helped convey the importance of helping more of our students in Massachusetts get in, graduate, and go far.

Trust

September is not even half over, and the busyness of fall is already upon us at Bottom Line. As I began my third go-round of this craziness, I've already found myself struggling to find the energy and optimism to get through another batch of incessant questions, painful essay drafts, and disappointing setbacks. Similarly, it's harder to bound out of bed in the morning and hit the pavement now that there is a distinct chill in the air, urging me back to the comfort of bed. I, like my students, am trying to stay focused on my short-term goals.

One of my main duties as a counselor is to break a seemingly unconquerable goal--getting into and affording the right college--into very realistic pieces for my students. In fact, sometimes I'm so good at focusing them on the immediate and the attainable that when the time comes to schedule an appointment to send their applications, they can only gape at me with wide eyes. "But-" they stammer, "I'm not ready! There must be more for me to do!" Many of them, whether they say it out loud or not, wonder if all the work they have done will be good enough to get them to the finish line they so deserve to see. 

With just over a week to go until my first half marathon, I also feel a bit like this deadline snuck up on me. The counselor in me knows that I've done just about everything I can to prepare for this. I've done long runs in 90-degree sun and 60-degree rain. I ran over 12 miles last week in a two-hour time trial. I know where the water stops will be along the course and when my body will need to re-fuel. [Exciting news: this particular half marathon feeds us Twizzlers.] I, like my students, need to trust in my preparation, close my eyes, and pull the trigger. Though, to be fair, bringing a couple envelopes a few blocks to the post office seems a bit easier than banging out 13.1 miles at 7am on a Saturday. Still, many of my students echo my awed sentiment that I can't believe I have come even this far. They may have a guidance counselor who scoffed at their questions about college. An endless string of older siblings and cousins that hardly made it out of high school. To be considering which college they will attend is something they perhaps couldn't even conceive of four months ago.

Looking forward, however, what we need to remember is that we each have another goal out there on the horizon. They still need to survive financial aid, make a good decision about where to go to school, and step into unfamiliar territory to find success on their college campus. I will need to figure out how to squeeze more hours into the day and more pep in my step to kick my actual marathon training into gear. We have to trust that we have what it takes to get ourselves where we need to be.

One thing is for sure--we all have a lot of work to do. Better make some more coffee.

Rebound

Once again, it's been a while since my last post, partially because the beginning of this month came with a few disappointments and setbacks. Near the end of July I had a major PR, completing 8 miles at an average of 9:30 each. I felt unstoppable, like I was ready to attack the last couple months of training before my half marathon. 

The next morning, I was scheduled to shift from 5-mile mornings to 6-milers. I mapped a new route and set out. About two miles in, the battery in my GPS watch died. Frustrated, I noted the time on my ipod and pushed on, knowing I could do the math later. Then I started to feel a familiar twinge creeping back into my left knee, a feeling I had blissfully avoided for months. I reluctantly made a mental note to dig my knee brace out of the closet when I got home. Coming down a big hill about halfway through the run, I was tired, frustrated, and dragging my feet a bit. My toe caught in a crack in the sidewalk, and I fell. No, not just fell--I flew. I took an epic, slip-and-slide-style dive, and totally scraped up my hands, right hip, and my already throbbing left knee. In the adrenaline of the moment, I jumped back up and kept running--I still had three miles to go and walking would mean I would probably be late for work. Every part of me hurt, and I had to keep blotting my bleeding hands on my t-shirt. I was positive that, upon returning home, I would find a gaping hole in my knee, shin covered in blood. I was almost disappointed to find that, though it smarted quite a bit, I had a scrape just bigger than the size of a quarter, and a matching one on my hipbone. I bandaged up and took the next day off, but figured I'd be back in no time. Unfortunately, the giant bruise that formed around my kneecap and lingered for a week spoke otherwise. A couple days later, I left the house to try a run, but couldn't even make it to the end of my street because of the sharp pain in my knee. I was officially injured. 

The disappointment continued, as I'd been planning a Thursday-to-Tuesday escape to Washington DC, where my days would be spent jogging around the city while my hosts were at work. Not only was it about 100 degrees every day, but I was having considerable trouble walking down stairs - no running allowed. Worst of all, I was struggling with something I think all injured athletes have a hard time with: how can you balance the need for your body to rest with the importance of sticking to a training schedule?

I ended up taking over two weeks off, and my first week back I started with significantly shorter distances to make sure my knee was up to it. It was almost worse than building my endurance the first time around--I purposely left my watch at home, but I still felt slow, easily winded, discouraged. Even on the days that I felt good, I had to remind myself to take it easy on my knees. It took a lot of patience and restraint, but I have finally worked my way back up to my regular schedule, and I've just completed my second full week of training since The Fall.

I may no longer feel truly unstoppable, but I now have a healthy appreciation for what I put my body through and am much better about listening to its complaints. However, as I finished an 11-miler this afternoon, I could really feel that the effort I put into my training schedule 6 days a week is paying off. I honestly feel like I will be completely capable of completing this half-marathon in September without my boyfriend needing to come peel me off the sidewalk when I'm done, which is something I wouldn't have believed until just a few months ago. 

I'm on the rebound, and I'm excited to see what comes next.

Runner's High

Runner's high can strike when you least expect it. You can be in a good mood or a crummy mood, having a great run or struggling to put one foot in front of the other. For me, it all comes down to what I'm thinking about as I'm running, and often happens when I forget that I'm running altogether. I get the chills, my whole body feels electric, and I feel like I could keep going forever. Something clicks in my brain and, for a moment, everything I'm doing just makes sense. 

I think we can experience a sort of runner's high in our daily lives, as well, where we forget about all the crap we're putting up with and have a moment of clarity. My work, for instance, is extremely demanding--months of back to back meetings, frank conversations with stubborn teenagers, worrying that deadlines won't be met or that the outcomes won't be what we want them to be. This spring, however, I experienced two bouts of runner's high.

Every April, we sit at our desks, as apprehensive and nervous as our students who sit by their mailboxes, waiting to hear about all of their acceptances and denials. On a relatively quiet evening this year, a screaming phone call came in from one of my students--she had been accepted to Brown. She kept updating me throughout the next couple days, adding eight more schools to the list. She was beside herself with excitement, but was still waiting to meet with me to find out which of her options she could afford. I'm happy to say that this particular student, pictured below, will be graduating debt-free from the Harvard University class of 2016. She is the first student from her high school to ever be admitted to Harvard, and I have no doubt that she will take full advantage of every opportunity available to her on campus.  

We at Bottom Line are a sometimes skeptical and often realistic bunch. To literally watch a student's dreams come true in front of my eyes was one of the most rewarding and memorable experiences I have had thus far. It reminds me why I constantly make exceptions for students who need to come in late in the evening, as this student often did. It increases my drive to make sure students feel they are clearly articulating their voices and their stories in the writing they submit. Most of all, it reinforces the fact that the students we work with really need us. They have big dreams, and they come to our office to get honest advice about how to make those dreams come true. After slogging through so many late nights, Saturday appointments, and so much higher education red tape, I experienced runner's high. I have found a new pep in my step as I have begun my meetings with the high school class of 2013.

Some of you may know that we restructured Bottom Line's programs at the start of the fiscal year, which meant that I had to hand off my nearly 50 college students to a new counselor this month. However, before the big transition, I had the distinct pleasure of seeing two of my students graduate from college--one from Assumption College, and one from UMass Dartmouth. Both completed school in four years, and both overcame significant academic and/or personal challenges to get where they are today. Though my work with college students had previously been overwhelmingly frustrating and occasionally humorous, it meant so much to be able to stand with one of my students after her commencement, shake hands with her 

parents, and honestly tell her how proud I was of her accomplishments. She never took no for an answer from the administration at school, always asked for clarification when she was struggling to understand class concepts, and never made excuses for poor performance. She knew what she had to do to graduate in four years, and she fought tooth and nail to get there on time, often overloading on credits and worrying the heck out of me. An economics major and international business minor, she sets an example for the members of her family and for all of our younger students who aren't sure if they can make it. 

I look back on the hours I spent with both of these ladies, remembering late nights in the office obsessing over the word choice of a conclusion sentence, or the panicked phone calls I took the week before college commencement when it seemed like summer school was a distinct possibility. In the past two years, I've had nights I lost sleep over specific students, left countless voicemail messages that went unanswered, pulled my hair out over big decisions I was waiting to hear back on. But thanks to these two students and many like them, some days I can forget about the stress and realize the value of my own hard work. A runner's high.

Making Time

It's been four weeks since I got back to a regular running schedule, and one week since I started a structured half marathon training program to get me ready for the fall. I'm already surprised at how far I've come. Last year in June I pushed myself to run 30 miles in 30 days. This month, I've run almost 60, and I have a 6-miler coming up this weekend. I joined a cardio hip-hop class to fill one of my cross-training days; the other I spend at the gym.

More than the miles, I've noticed how different running feels. Steep inclines used to mean deep panting, a walking break, or a much slower jog; now I barely notice them. My legs are stronger, taking some of the pressure off of my heart and lungs to get the work done. 

It's only been four weeks, and yet I think this is the most fit I have ever been. It's amazing how fast progress can happen when you make a commitment. I'm only getting up 15 minutes earlier than I have for the past two years, and the only thing I'm skipping of my old morning routine is time spent lying on the couch with my laptop. If you had told me even a year or two ago that I would be getting up before work to run 4 miles nearly every day, I would have laughed in your face. 

This really makes me think about the other things I've sworn there's not enough time for in my life. Yesterday, before work, I had fed and snuggled the cats, been to the gym, taken out the recycling, e-mailed a friend, and caught up with two family members over the phone. There is always time for the things that matter. 

I will attempt to remind myself of this as my daily mileage climbs to 5 and then 6 miles over the next couple of weeks...

Go Time



I can run down Rte 135 and pretend I'm here, right?

It's been a while since my last post, and unfortunately, almost as long since my last run. After the long, gorgeous, meditative beach runs I took down in North Carolina during my brother's college graduation week, I almost couldn't bear to put my feet back down on pavement when I got home. I was also moving and dealing with some crazy transitions at work, so it was easy to make excuses and push things to the next week. 

No more!

Last weekend I was honored to attend UMass Dartmouth's graduation to celebrate one of  my two college students graduating with the class of 2012. This particular student has worked harder than ANYONE I know to get where she is today; she fought through a tough freshman year due to her lack of preparation in high school, stuck with an economics major even though professors told her she wouldn't make it, and overloaded on credits her entire senior year to ensure that she would graduate on time. Even though she gave me several heart attacks this year, I could not be more proud. My marathon fundraiser will be to help Bottom Line grow, ensuring that more low-income and first-generation students nationwide will have a college graduation day.

June is a hopeful time in our office, as our high school seniors graduate and begin planning their college orientations, designing their dorm rooms, and imagining what the next stage of their lives will look like. It also marks the beginning of the College Access process for our next class of high school students. It seems fitting for me to begin the serious part of my training just as our bright-eyed high school juniors are beginning to plan their college lists. They aren't yet jaded by the numbers, the deadlines, or the paperwork, they come only asking that we help them reach a goal. Our students, who come in to their first meetings expressing varying levels of confusion and panic, leave understanding two things: that they are going to college, and that we will help them break down each step it will take to get them there. I imagine my journey toward Marathon Monday will line up well with their journey to College Commitment Day: May 1st. Today we are idealistic, yet apprehensive, choosing a program we think will help us get where we want to be and hoping that we can get there. By September, we'll be cursing the amount of work still left to do and feeling that spring is endless months away. Winter will be the hardest time, as the completion of one goal will turn quickly to beginning work on another. Deadlines come hard and fast during months that we would rather curl up and sleep. March and April will be a mad dash to the finish--regretting unfinished work that should have been done during winter months and frantically working toward the end goal we could have sworn was a few more months away.

The key for all of us is to find something to drive us through the days we would rather scream than take one more baby step in the right direction. Here, I'm hoping I have a leg up on my high school students. I get to go to work every day and be reminded why the organization I'm supporting is so critically important. Every day will come with a reminder of the immense importance of higher education for my students. Still, I'm going to need an online training calendar to keep me honest, and plenty of post-its above the bed to remind me that I WANT to go to the gym. 

Training for a half marathon in September starts in 2 weeks. It's go time. 

Out of Time

"At the end of my life...I hope I have used everything I had until I simply...ran out of time." -Dave McGillivray

This week brings with it two tough anniversaries. It's been five years since my college friend, Meghan, barely 21, passed away very suddenly due to Myocarditis, and one year since the loss of my childhood friend, Austin, who fought a tough battle with Leukemia for nearly 18 months. It hurts so much to think that these young people so full of life, so loved by family and friends, and so uniquely themselves could be taken away so soon. Every year at this time, despite the new buds appearing on trees, the warm sun, and the chirping birds, I find myself reflecting on just how short our time here may be. Every year since Meghan's passing I've used this anniversary as a time to reach out to friends and remind them in some way, however small, how much I would miss them if they were gone. Together with Meghan's family and friends, I've encouraged others to do the same. 

I read an article in Runner's World last month when I was cooped up in the Raleigh airport for several hours. The piece focused on Dave McGillivray, organizer of the Boston Marathon and many other road races nation-wide. At the end of Marathon day in Boston, McGillivray heads back to Hopkinton and runs the course himself. In addition, he runs his age in miles on his birthday every year. This year, he'll be 57. When asked about how long he would continue his traditions, he basically responded, "as long as I can." His story makes me want to get up and run until I can't take any more. To actively use my body, my heart, and my brain until there is nothing left. To love and laugh and live until I run out of time.

I think that what strikes me about McGillivray is the fact that he takes the promises he makes to himself as seriously as the promises he makes to others. We can all afford to take a page from his book. Sometimes the promises we make to ourselves are harder to keep, but they are the most important. So this year, my new challenge, which I will extend to all of you, is to never be afraid to make genuine promises to myself, and to hold myself accountable for keeping those promises.

The Starting Line

Yesterday, I finished my Master's Degree. Though it was a little anti-climactic, culminating in a one-page journal entry about how my whole professional life relates to two tragically repetitive books we read this semester, for me, it was momentous. No more weeknights trying to ignore the TV while interpreting my public budgeting texts. No more early morning alarm clocks signalling the time to get back to my computer screen. No more weekend guilt for the hours spent on anything other than school work.

And yet, beyond superficial relief for the restoration of my brainpower, there has been a larger thought on my mind for the last few weeks and months. What's next? I have never felt content to reach a finish line. The finish line, if you think about it, is really just the starting line for your next adventure.

After three years of mornings, nights, and weekends spent staring bleary-eyed at my books and papers, hashing out an advanced degree, it feels right that this finish line become the starting line for a more active lifestyle. My roommates for the past few years can vouch that my strained relationship with running can be credited to the guilt I felt for abandoning my books for long enough to hit the gym. I often agonized for so long about whether or not to exercise that I would waste at least as long as it would take me to run a mile just figuring out if I should put my sneakers on or not.

Anyone who knows me knows that I care deeply about my job and my students. I work for an organization called Bottom Line, which provides free, one-on-one counseling to low-income, first-generation students. We help them get into college, and then we stick with them to ensure their success. I strongly believe that Bottom Line is a one-of-a-kind organization because our leaders also refuse to believe in finish lines. They developed an exemplary program for urban high school students that ensured the vast majority would be accepted to a four-year college. But they weren't satisfied until they had built one of the nation's first College Success programs, and now boast a 73 percent graduation rate. "The Bottom Line," as Dave would say, "is a college degree." This year, however, Bottom Line will employ its very first team of career counselors, now that we have realized even college graduation is yet another starting line. The bottom line, it turns out, is a job.

So, nearly graduated, fully rested, and itching to run, I'm announcing my intention to get to a new starting line: Hopkinton, MA, the starting line of the 2013 Boston Marathon. I will be running to raise money for Bottom Line, to support the organization's continued growth and to inspire a new class of students to push toward the next starting line. Am I terrified? Yes. But isn't that the point?

Why Run?

Running is a habit I developed, believe it or not, out of boredom. My first experience with running came in high school, back when my personal philosophy was that running was reserved for "when something is chasing me." To escape our compulsory sports requirement for the winter trimester, my friends and I signed up for recreational cross-country skiing, which was notoriously lax. Our faculty advisor (I refuse to use the word 'coach') would roll up to the parking lot and take attendance from the comfort of his heated pick-up truck while we stood around picking the ice out of our bindings with bare fingers. He would watch as we waddled our way out to the soccer fields, and take off once he saw us get as far as the tennis courts. Most days, we waited five minutes, turned around, and headed back to the library to get our homework done.

However, one fatefully warm winter, we had no snow. None. On those afternoons, we were imprisoned in the indoor track (with the track team, I might add), and our faculty advisor reluctantly stayed and supervised. And so, left with no other choice, we walked, or jogged, or sometimes ran. Most of the time, as we ran, we sang James Brown's "I Feel Good," which we had arranged into a trio (and, as I remember it, Amanda rocked the horn solo on the bridge.) Most days, though, I didn't feel good, which I later discovered was because of exercise induced asthma, triggered by the cold. It was even worse when I had to run outside later in high school; my lungs continuously burned and I had a wheezing cough that stuck with me for weeks after the season was over.

It wasn't until my senior year of college that I discovered I could love running. I was a coxswain for the men's crew team, and winter training included a few weight lifting sessions each week. One day, I got bored while the men were lifting and hopped on the treadmill. I ran and people-watched until I had accidentally run a mile and a half without thinking about it. And it felt great. My lifting-day runs became a welcome routine. I began to understand my favorite thing about running--the uninterrupted time to let my mind wander. My brain was on a schedule for every hour of my college life: take quick notes in this class, write this paper, plan this meeting, choreograph this dance routine, apply for this job, run this practice, solve this friend's problem, lie in bed at night and think about everything you'll have to think about tomorrow. Those hours on the treadmill or the road were the only part of my day that I didn't have to think about anything.

Though my relationship with running has been decidedly on-again, off-again, it's the clarity that always keeps me coming back. I eat and sleep better when I'm running. I feel physically and psychologically stronger. Even if I don't hit the pavement with questions on my mind, by the end of a long, hard run, I somehow have answers.