A Run Along the Seine River, Paris
Today I ran along the Seine River in Paris, France. I won’t pretend to be a history buff, but I will convey what I felt: a presence. The ghosts of…
Essays and Poetry by Barbara Powell
Today I ran along the Seine River in Paris, France. I won’t pretend to be a history buff, but I will convey what I felt: a presence. The ghosts of…
I hook my headphones behind my ears and tug on my Nike head warmer. Fishing through what I have dubbed as my “running basket,” a hodgepodge of running gear including…
When I began running in the 6th grade, I swore that I would one day run a marathon. My oldest sister was at Boston College and running the Boston Marathon…
The city lights warmed the runner. The slight breaths in and out guided her steps in tune with the slap slap slap slap of her running shoes against the splotched…
I have always been a runner. I grew up in a running household, following the swift steps of the siblings before me right onto the cross country course and the…
Grandma’s Marathon is not for knee-knocking old ladies. Grandma’s Marathon in Duluth, Minnesota was almost 4 weeks ago. And almost 4 weeks and a day ago, I was incredibly pumped…
My run yesterday morning was amazing. I know, you hear runners say this all the time. The case of the exceptional run, the momentous morning adventure, the wondrous mind body…
5 AM. It is the almost insane balance of the incredibly sad and the incredibly motivated. The homeless huddle for warmth inside the hospital’s foyer in Bellevue on 27th and…