Run like a girl 365 days a year a practical personal inspirational guide for women athletes mina sam
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“We all have a million excuses to skip a daily run, but you only need 365 antidotes to change your life. And here they are, all funny, wise, and warm. Lace up, girls!”
—Kathrine Switzer, founder 261 Fearless, and author of Marathon Woman
“Run Like a Girl 365 Days a Year motivates, inspires, and celebrates what it means to be a female athlete. It reminds and prepares us to be the best version of ourselves.”
—Christie Pearce Rampone, former captain of the US women’s National soccer team and three-time Olympic gold medalist
“Mina Samuels’s Run Like a Girl 365 Days a Year speaks to the inner athlete in all of us. Both inspirational and practical, this book is a great companion on your athletic journey. Offering bite-sized prompts for thought and action, readers will learn, and laugh, and grow.”
—Samantha J. Brennan, co-founder of Fit Is a Feminist Issue and co-author of Fit at Mid-Life: A Feminist Fitness Journey
“As an expressive boy full of joy, my older brother tried to stifle my light. He bullied me by calling me a sissy and saying, ‘you run like a girl.’ In life, hidden in the forces that pull us down is the energy to lift us up. In retaliation, I learned to flip and fly, moving faster than anyone around me. Mina brings new meaning to that phrase with her insightful and masterful
book Run Like a Girl 365 Days a Year. Her physical, mental, and spiritual journey align with both truth and humility. If running like a girl means pursuing this marathon called life with the same awareness as Mina, then in her writing she gives to all of us a fresh pair of running shoes.”
—Christopher Harrison, Founder AntiGravity Inc.
“Run Like a Girl 365 Days a Year is a fitness roadmap for women. We are all athletes, there is no judgment, and there are no excuses. We just need to move and not look back. Mina Samuels’s inspirational thoughts help keep us moving and feeling good about it.”
—Nieca Goldberg, MD, Medical Director Joan Tisch Center for Women’s Health
“It often feels like we’re stealing—from our jobs, families, and responsibilities—when we take time to run. For the larceny of tending to our bodies and souls, Run Like a Girl 365 Days of the Year is an essential accomplice, reminding us daily that the ‘stolen’ moments may be the ones that matter most.”
—Amy Roe, author of Becoming Boston Strong
Praise for Mina Samuels
“A chicken soup for the athlete’s soul.”
SELF Magazine
“There are lots of good sports books, but rarely beautifully written ones. Run Like a Girl is both.”
—Mary Brophy Marcus, USA Today
“A book that is needed and important and life changing—all the things running has been for us!”
—Kathrine Switzer, author of Marathon Woman: Running the Race to Revolutionize Women’s Sports, Running and Walking for Women Over 40, and co-author of 26.2 Marathon Stories
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Skyhorse Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
Skyhorse Publishing books may be purchased in bulk at special discounts for sales promotion, corporate gifts, fund-raising, or educational purposes. Special editions can also be created to specifications For details, contact the Special Sales Department, Skyhorse Publishing, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018 or info@skyhorsepublishing.com.
Skyhorse® and Skyhorse Publishing® are registered trademarks of Skyhorse Publishing, Inc ® , a Delaware corporation
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
Cover design by Paul Qualcom
Cover photo credit: David Foster
Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-4169-0
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-4206-2
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
CONTENTS
Introduction
Acknowledgments About the Author
Notes
INTRODUCTION
Running like a girl is an everyday experience. Running like a girl happens on the road and off. Running like a girl invites us to engage with the world. Running like a girl means challenging our bodies and minds to be stronger and happier, and accessing our ageless girlspirit, where the clean-slate optimism of “let’s go” meets the seasoned wisdom of “I can.”
When I say running, I mean it as a proxy for any active physical engagement you fancy, however you choose to move your body and get your heart pounding! Also when I say running, I mean it as more than a sport. Sports are just one aspect of how we engage with the world as strong women. We have our work, our communities, our families, and our friends; how we are in each of those bits of the world matters.
My first book, Run Like a Girl: How Strong Women Make Happy Lives, was about the transformative impact of sports on a woman’s life. One of the key currents running through that book was the need for women to renew our commitment to our sports on a continuous basis. A second and equally important undercurrent flowing beneath the pages was that our sports are merely one small piece of our lives.
This book delves more deeply into these topics: How our strength fortifies us; how we find balance; how sports nourish our life’s purpose; and how they feed our ability to change how we exist in the world. Our sports are a mirror and microscope. They are where we can test our strength and determination and try out new ways of being.
This book brings together the voices of many strong women I’ve interviewed and researched, across a range of sports, from running to rugby, from surfing to skating, and dozens in between. But even more, this book is personal. I have been remade by my sports. I have felt the way my strength has supported me on a daily basis and through big changes. At the same time, I struggle with finding the right balance between the supportive potential of my sports and the oversaturation point past which I’m worn out and get injured. I offer this book as a drop of sustenance on this journey we share.
In these pages we will look at serious topics, such as whether this whole business we call life really means anything and how we reach for our dreams, but we will have fun, too. We will revel in the world’s beauty. We will laugh at our foibles. Above all, we will contemplate balance, that constantly shifting process of finding our best path in life as strong women.
So this book is a call to be present for the hard work and sweat, and for the joy and indulgence. Know that transforming yourself is a process that doesn’t end. Just as water can pass from solid to liquid and then escape the bonds of gravity as a gas, only to return to earth as a raindrop, we too are constantly growing and changing, glimpsing new possibility. And while change may happen quickly, more often it happens over time, even imperceptibly; until one day we realize we are skimming along, legs flying, shoes barely touching the ground.
How to read this book
This book is constructed the way our lives are built—day by day, in a series of daily reflections, often unrelated, always accumulating, which slowly knit together to create each of our unique designs.
You can read this book daily, if you want, but that’s not the essential thing. This is a book of days, to be read on the days when you are moved to read it. These pages will contemplate how we might approach the world, so that it is a richer, and fuller, happier place; so that it is a place where we can grow and help others grow. “May you go from strength to strength,” my father used to wish us on our birthdays and other momentous and liminal occasions. This book is my version of that wish for you.
This is a book to read when you need a boost, when you need a reminder of your worth, or when you question why you run. I don’t presume to think that everything I propose in these pages applies to everyone. Take what nourishes you and discard the rest. If something resonates, great. If something annoys you, move on. Or maybe sit with it a second and ask yourself why.
This book is meant to keep you company on this road we are all running. Run strong. Run confident. And run like a girl.
January
1 … a word
New beginning. Fresh start. So much pressure.
Time to distill. What’s the one word we would each choose today to describe the year we are aiming for? A word that aspires to something greater, but doesn’t set us up for disappointment. A personal word that captures both who we are already and how we can become more. A word that will inspire us for the 364 days to come.
Make a list of possibilities: illuminate, grow, steady, run, light, recharge, strong, vitality, engagement, present, discerning, happy, incandescent, yes, flow, curiosity, change, meet, reliability, spontaneity, pleasure, simplicity … These words contain potential.
One year I chose RENEWAL. Another year, I chose ATTENTION. What’s your word?
January 2
… grit and grace
For this book, I chose two words: GRIT and GRACE. It’s in the space between those words where we run like a girl.
January 3 … practice practicing
This year we will be more … what?
More intense. More relaxed. More focused. More flexible. More ambitious. More patient. Whatever it is that we want to be more of, we will have to practice. And practice practicing. This year we will practice. More.
January 4
… practice opens possibility
I once had a yoga teacher who would say, in moments when she was gently guiding us into a complex origami-shape that required hamstrings five inches longer than mine (i.e., hamstrings that didn’t go out running regularly), “It’s only practice.” A little edgy bit in me sometimes thought, So when’s the actual yoga?
But actuality and practice are one and the same, of course. The practice is practicing. Getting out on the road for a run is both the run and the practice. Most of us can understand intellectually, but we don’t always get it at the cellular level. We want our gold star. We want to be done. Completed. Over. Check that box.
Yet we also know that every time we think we’ve finished something, what we’ve actually done is practice for the next challenge. A marathon didn’t go as well as we’d hoped, so try another one. Or maybe it went better than we could have hoped; where will that trampoline bounce of success take us next?
Practice opens possibility.
January 5 … potentialism
Have you ever tried to stream a movie or TV show and gotten stuck watching the digital circle spinning? Like that circle indicates, there is a good chance (close to 100 percent) that our potential is more than we are currently streaming. Our life takes pauses. The digital circle spins around in the center of our life-screen, trying to catch its tail. That’s the sign we need to find a wider bandwidth to stream our full potential.
Not every day is a great run. Not every day will make us feel strong and happy. Even on the not-the-best days of swirl and search, if we can see the practice in a slog-of-a-run-through-waist-deep-muck, then we will also see the potential it unleashes.
Let’s call that potentialism. But it’s not a word, you say? Nope, it’s not. It’s a neologism, a newly invented word to go with our fresh eyes on a new year.
Potentialism is where we find our widest bandwidth, our deepest connection. More than simple optimism, potentialism is the waking dream, the unconscious made manifest. It’s the moment before that circle stops spinning on our screen and we see the full picture.
Open to the future. What do you want?
January 6 … our life-in-waiting
Potentialism opens our hearts to the future. The actual realization of what we want will not be immediate. We will have a sensation of in-betweenness, of being done with what was, and yet not immersed in what’s to come. Our thoughts may feel sluggish and unconnected or rabbit-y and hard to catch.
Our sports give us a structure inside that unsettled state of being. Our bodies give us a way out of our minds. Even as our sports may elevate our spirits, our bodies bring us down to earth, into the raw here-and-now of our flesh, our muscles, our sweat.
If all else feels unripe, unready, in-waiting—our run is ready for us.
January
7 … we are 100 percent right now
Amidst all these words of intention, practices, and potentialism, we might get the idea that we are somehow incomplete, an outline waiting to be filled in. Not so.
How many times have you heard someone say, “When I feel like myself again …” As in, I’ll do such-and-such a thing when I feel like myself again. How can that be? Who are you, if not yourself?
Consider this: What if I will never feel like myself again, because that self I’m waiting to feel like doesn’t exist?
I already am myself, and then myself, and myself again. And you are yourself and then yourself, and yourself again.
Every day is different. But we are 100 percent every day. We are enough every day.
January 8
… the symphony is playing
As athletes we often feel like our body is a symphony tuning up. That the concert hasn’t started yet, that our body is not quite the body it’s supposed to be. We are waiting for that magic moment when everything is tuned, and in sync; when all the various aches and pains and injuries and ailments (often a result of our sports) are healed.
I think of myself as a healthy person, but at any given time there is some number of boo-boos I’m monitoring: A skitchy hamstring or a tender hip flexor; an incipient blister on the arch of my foot from an orthotic, plus a hangnail or two; or a persistent crick in my neck.
I’ve been talking about our bodies, but I could just as easily be talking about anything else in our lives. We are 100 percent and we all have things we are hoping to change or improve. We wonder when the symphony is going to start, when every instrument will play together as it should.
The symphony is already playing. The piece has started and the music is our life as it is right now.
January 9 … why compare?
Your 100 percent is going to look different from someone else’s. Guaranteed.
Comparing yourself to others is lose-lose. One road leads to artificial ego inflation and the other to an equally artificial ego deflation. Neither way leads to the truth of you. No one else brings your circumstances to her run. Your best day may be someone else’s worst day. If you must compare, keep your focus on you vs. you.
Practice not comparing. That’s easy to write and so very hard for me to achieve. Let’s try together.
January 10
… the seventeenth century peacock
A particular passion of mine is translating Jean de La Fontaine’s seventeenth century fables from their original French and writing about their contemporary relevance.
Here’s a fable about comparing:
The Peacock Complaining to Juno
The Peacock was complaining to Juno,
“Goddess,” the peacock said, “it’s not without reason that I’m complaining, that I’m muttering. The song you gave me displeases all in nature. Compared to the nightingale, that scrawny weakling, whose sounds are as sweet as they are resonant; to him alone falls the honor of spring herald.”
Juno responded in anger,
“Jealous bird, who ought to hold his tongue, is it your place to envy the nightingale’s voice? You who wear around your neck a rainbow made of a hundred kinds of silk that glorify you; who deploys a tail so rich that to our eyes it looks like a jeweler’s boutique? Is there any other bird under the sun more pleasing than you? No animal has all assets. We have given each of you diverse qualities: Some have grandeur and strength to spare. The falcon is
light, the eagle courageous. The raven predicts the future. The crow warns of bad news coming. All are happy with their lot.
So, stop your complaining, or … to punish you I’ll take away your plumage.”
January 11
… appreciate what you will miss
Appreciate what you are and what you have. Everything will be taken away sooner or later, if not by Juno, then by time. That’s not just a Buddhist-style thought, that’s a fact. And you will miss it, even if you thought that whatever it was wasn’t good enough in comparison to others at the time. Revel in today’s run.
January 12
…
strive for excellence, not perfection
You’re not perfect and nobody else is either. Don’t waste time comparing. As Carl Jung famously said (and you’ve probably heard a thousand times, but it bears repeating), “Perfection belongs to the gods; the most we can hope for is excellence.”
Excellence is within reach. Excellence is personal. Excellence is an intention, a commitment to manifest your potential. Excellence is putting in our best effort and holding our own selves to our highest standard. Not every action we take is excellent (that’s why we practice), but when it’s called for, don’t hold back the reserves—leave everything on the road (or the field, or in the pool, or …) and give it your all. That’s it. What you do won’t be perfect. It will be better.
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ALBATROSS
Charles Baudelaire.
[Tätä runoa käänteessäni olen käyttänyt hyväkseni Toivo Mähösen ansiokasta mukaelmaa. — Suom.]
Kas, pyydystetyks merimiehet huviksensa saa joskus albatrossin, laivaa saatelleen veen yli suolaisen. He taajoin parvinensa tuon ympäröivät vieraan, ylhäält' eksyneen.
Ja kannel!' avutonna, häpeissänsä laahaa nyt lintu ruumistaan — tuo veikko pilvien.
Kuin raskait' airoja, niin kupeillansa raahaa se taakkaa hervotonten valkosiipien.
Nyt horjut, ylväs lentäjä, kuin oma varjos, viel' äsken ihana, nyt rujo, irvokas.
Mies sulle julkeana piippunysää tarjos, ja toinen matkii sua, ilmain kuningas.
Oi, nähkää runoilija linnuss' uhmakkaassa: hän nuolta nopeammin myrskyyn rynnistää, mut parvess' ihmisten kun
alhaall' on hän maassa, hän siipiensä painon alle rammaks jää.
ISÄ JA POIKA
Erik Lindorm. Kuu pilvijuomakas värjyy syväll' alla tumman veen. Ja uniset sirkat soittaa läpi heinän kaatuneen. Kuin harmaa tuhka sataa hämy päivän hehkuhun. Me kuljemme kivistä rantaa, minä, pieni poikani mun.
Hän katsoo, viittoo ja loruu.
Kivet joskus livettää.
Minä hyväilen hänen kättään pient', aivan pehmeää.
Hänen lapsen-ihmettelynsä ei väsy utelemaan.
Ovat ajatukseni poissa, minä tuskin vastaankaan.
Miten kauan saanen pitää sinun pientä kättäs näin, tuki olla sulle ja turva, opas matkallas eteenpäin? Miten kauan lienee mulla sija lämmin sielussas? Sinä kasvat ja rinnaltani menet yhä kauemmas.
Sinun tahtosi uhmaan paatuu, pojan-ujona piileilet. Ja katseemme eroo. Ja sieluus idut kasvavat salaiset. Käyt synkin, polttavin tuntein salateitäs kulkemaan. Minun täytyy syrjässä seistä, vain ääneti katsoa saan.
Jos tietäisit, poikani, kuinka yli vuotees uneksin. Minä kirjoituspöytäni kätköön ens sukkasi piiloitin. Ne pienet, pienet sukat koviks, suuriks kengiks saa, ne polkevat omaa tietään, isän, äidin ne musertaa.
Se täytyy kärsiä, kestää, jos kohta se raskast' ois. Miten puserrankin, irtoo kätes kädestäni pois. Menet kuitenkin luotani kerta, ken estäis kasvamisen? — Tule nyt, me kiiruhdamme pian kotiin, poikanen!
VANHA TALO
Ragnar Jändel.
Koditon raukka, maailmassa harhaan ma repalein ja kengin visaisin. Ei mulla maata, taivast' eikä luojaa, vain köyhä äiti mull' on jossakin. Niin kuljen, tuijottelen tähtiin, hullu, ja veri palaa. Kaiken sulkea ma tahdon syliini — mut muistan: täytyy pimennon lasna hylyn kulkea.
Mut usein, arimmin kun värjyy sydän, kun helle teki uuvuttavaks tien, kun seutu hukkuu sinertävään hämyyn, ma vanhan talon luokse tullut lien. Ja kuulen laulun, nuoren käden tiedän pianon näppäimillä leikkivän — juon nälkäisinä soinnut, hiiskumatta, peläten painaudun seinähän.
Ja nuoren, tumman, hennon tytön siellä nään nuotteineen.
Ja divaanilla nään sävelten, kirjojen ja valon luona myös tumman pojan, miehen vieressään. Nään, että lapset ovat sisarukset; heit' uneen valkokehdoss' äiti on hyväillen tuutinut. — Ja outo pakko mun vetää ikkunoiden valohon.
Ja katso … luona pianon se lapsi, mi kieliin koskee sormin hentoisin, hän — nään sen nyt — on oma sisareni, ja poika sohvall' itse olenkin. Ja hän, jok' aurinkoiseks lapsuutemme on hyväillyt, mun äitini hän on; myös talon, suojat lämpöiset mä tunnen, mä tunnen oman isän kartanon.
— Mut koira haukkuu… Hitto, uneksinhan! — On kotini Eimissään, täällä ei! Mun pieni sisareni kuoli viluun, ja elon kurjuus äidin voimat vei. On isänikin kuollut — entä sitten! —
Mä otan pussin, alan laputtaa ja kysyn joltain kiiltonappiselta, koditon raukka mistä majan saa.
SATAA
Ragnar Jändel. Rakkahin, herää, tule ulos kuistiin! Katras harmaita pilviä peittää taivaan.
Voi meitä! Jo myöhäistä kiskurin on tuomio langettaa: kipusauvamme vuolijat itsekin nyt aaveina vaeltaa.
ANGELIKA
Dan Andersson. Minä kuulin pauhua myrskyn ja ääntä pasuunain, minä kupeeni vyötin kohta ja nousin haudastain, valoss' auringon paisui rintani mun, käsivarteni jännitin, toi ihana tuuli itämaan kuin viiniä suonihin.
Ja rankkana lämmin sade minun huuhteli rääsyjäin, minä avasin silmäni uudet ja tuomiopäivän näin. Oli kanssani myös Angelika, jota kovin rakastin, mut jota en saada ansainnut, minä arvolta alhaisin.
Ja kolmekymmentä päivää minä vuottelin vuoroain, kevät uus oli ympärillä, sini taivaalla vanha vain. Minä vihdoin mieleni rohkaisin, menin käden nostaen: "Olen nimeltä William Andersson, ja suuri syntinen.
Ja tässä on hän, Angelika, jota kovin rakastin, mut jota en saada ansainnut, minä arvolta alhaisin. Me olimme miltei kihlatut, mut tietenkin salaa vaan, emme toisiamme pettäneet, minun tieteni ainakaan.
Lihan synti on syntimme ollut, mut liha on kuollut pois, ei tuomitse henkeä henki, vikapää jos ruumis ois.
Sinun veljiäs pienimpiä olen kohdannut varrella tien.
Kun näkivät nälkää, nälkää näin, kun uupuivat, uupunut lien.
Välist' emme leipään kajonneet, jos paastoa toiset sai, ja se oli hengestä, Herra, sen sentään myönnät kai?
Me kuulimme enkelikuoroas, kun kuolevat vaikersi vain.
Menehdyimme kaikki nälkään, oi Herra, rinnakkain.
Ja pienet, pienet naiset tuli joskus leirihin, ja he kylvivät sen naurullaan kuin pienin kukkasin.
Me otimme heidät silloin, vajosimme kurjuuteen.
Mut se oli ruumiista, Herra, vika ruumiin hävinneen."
Kadult' Ebalin portin luota tuli saatana virkkaen: "Niin, Herra, he itkivät, antoivat — vain minua peljäten.
Mut kysyhän heiltä, Herra", hän puhui kumartain, "mitä tekivät vaioisimmin öin, kun ei pelkoa ollut lain."
Minä huusin: "Pelkomme, Herra, piti alati murinaa, söi meitä se syödessämme, se säikytti nukkujaa. Hädän tautta me surmasimme, nälän pelosta varastain ja me kieltäydyimmekin toisinaan, mut taivasta muistaen vain."
Mut Herra näin: "Minä tiedän tuon, kai parhaiten tiedänkin — jotakin toki oppinut minäkin lien vuosimiljoonin —. Oli rakkaus pelon vuoksi, vanhurskaus suosion, mitä teitte, kun pelkonne vaientui, se kiimassa tehty on."
Minä vastasin: "Henki ol' altis, mut liha heikko vain, ja kun synnissä mässäsi liha, ei katunut henki lain.
Tais saattaa ne meidät, ne kaksi, alas synkkään Ebaliin; enin ruumiista sentään oli, ja ruumis haudattiin.
Ylipäänsä me olimme, Herra, lian peitossa kokonaan, ja ruumista henki raahas kuin kahletta jalassaan. Ja nyt anon tuomiotas, sen alle tyytyen.
Olen nimeltä William Andersson, ja suuri syntinen."
Mut Herra näin: "Ota impes sun, joka rakas sulle on, mut jota et saada ansainnut, sinä säädyltä arvoton.
Suven taivaan alla uudestaan koetellaan teitä nyt, ja pyydän, te kaikki lähtekää, olen teihin väsynyt."
Niin menimme jälleen kaikki pois, alas Mamren tammistoon koeteltaviks kerran vieläkin, kunis tulemme tuomioon.
Mut saatana nauroi portillaan, nämä sanat kuulla sain:
"Sinä sait, sinä sait Angelikan vuoks pelkuruutes vain!"
RAKKAUS
Dan Andersson. Sanotaan, että profeetta uskossaan, jonk' ääni kuin malmi, kuin symbaali soi, rakkautta jok' ei tule tuntemaan, hän on turhaa, hän hukkua voi.
Sillä profetia kokonansa häviää, kuin tuuli, savu kuolee se, voimaton, mut kaikki, min rakkaus täyttää, se jää ja niinkuin jumala on.
Teet, rakkaus, kaunihiks ohdakkeen, sinä kuin sade käyt yli nääntyvän maan, kukan tuot, puron vihreine äyräineen aron hiekkahan polttavaan.
DOONEYN SOITTAJA
W. B. Yeats. Kun Dooneyssa viulua soitan, kaikk' alkavat karkelon. Kilvarnetin pappina serkku, veli Greenogen pappina on.
Veli, serkku, he jälkeeni jääden tavas rukouskirjaa vain.
Luin itse mä laulujen kirjaa, min kaupungista sain.
Ja kun aika täyttyy ja tullaan pyhän luokse Pietarin, hän hymyää kolmelle meille, enin minulle kuitenkin.
Ilo aina on tuttava hyväin, ilon suuri päihtymys. Rakas iloisille on tanssi sekä viuluni helähdys.
Menen portista, taivaassa syntyy
väentungos tavaton:
"Hei täällä on soittaja Dooneyn!"
Ja he alkavat karkelon.
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