a "runner's" playlist.

Top Five:

1. Anxiety (Black Eyed Peas)--I don't fear my enemies, I don't fear bullets from uzzies...

2. Lose Yourself (Eminem)--Here I go, it's my shot. Feet fail me not. This may be the only opportunity that I got...

3. Dirt Off Your Shoulder (Jay-Z)--the perfect beat (if you force yourself to match your footfalls to the bass)

4. Stronger (Kanye West)--That which doesn't kill me...

5. Heart of a Champion (Nelly)--The background is the old NBA theme!!

Honorable mention:

Points of Authority (Linkin Park)--You can't run a race. The pace is too fast. You just won't last...just a little negative motivation...

The effectiveness of all this is very suspect, though...I had what was probably my best run of the season this weekend, and I listened to Damien Rice (which is what I listen to while I'm studying or when I want to fall asleep...).

the Run.

It’s amazing to me how clear already I can see the correlation between life and this training-for-a-marathon thing. How the thoughts and emotions I carry within me through the day are manifested physically in the way I tense my shoulders, in my labored breathing, in the way my legs carry me on the Run.

Some days the Run is an ethereal (albeit typically evanescent) sort of elation…a combination of freedom and movement, endorphins and adrenaline, physical pain and the transcendence of physicality. Each stride loosens and lengthens the taught fibers of my muscles. And on these days, the Run is a breath. A pause. A moment to reflect, to see, to listen to the deep steadiness of my breathing or the rhythmic beat of my footsteps—or beyond myself, to the prickle of tree branches and the early notes of songbirds, or, even beyond that, to the quiet stillness of the early morning air still cool with dew. The divide between the body and the silence is vast, but when it is breeched…asamdwoe…peace.

Other days, there is no peace in the Run. My breathing is shallow and hoarse. My footfalls slow and heavy. Eyes closed, I see only darkness, I hear only the sounds of my body in rebellion against, or disregard for, the silence. My muscles pull and stretch without coming unknotted. My side and stomach tighten as I struggle to drive my knees forward one more step. I feel tired. I feel sick. I feel like giving up.

In training, as in life, I find myself in constant need for a reminder that this truly is not a sprint, that the quality of the Run today is not measured by my pace or by the way my body feels. No, it is solely and explicitly about the Run...about being out there on the path, putting one foot in front of the last, taking each breath slowly and deeply. It’s about seeing the beauty of the race ahead and about hearing the silence.

And it's about doing it again tomorrow.

the wrong foot.

Well, I'm just back to Chicago from the Hunger Justice Leaders Conference in Washington, D.C., with Bread for the World, and I feel both exhausted and rejuvenated (if that's possible).

The exhausted part comes primarily from several days of a very upset stomach. In fact, I haven't really eaten anything at all since Monday afternoon (I had half a granola bar on Tuesday. That's it.). Compounding that...it was just a generally packed week. The conference was scheduled from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. every day, in addition to time spent trying to get to know as many of the other young people there. So yes, exhausted.

So needless to say, my training is not going very well, which makes me a little nervous for the 7-miler on Saturday.

But at the same time, I feel rejuvenated from a week full of learning about issues related to world hunger and poverty, meeting other people who are part of the fight against these problems, and celebrating the impact that we, even as individuals, can have.

I feel encouraged in my efforts and convicted in my running.

Lunch today will be my first meal in 3 days, and tonight's run will be the first in so many as well. I'm looking forward to both.

has-been or will-be?

I used to be an athlete.

A college athlete even. But that seems like ages ago. In fact, I would say that my athletic career probably peeked in my senior year of high school.

I still play a little bit of basketball at the park when I can if I'm not too tired or if I don't feel like doing anything else...but that's about it.

And I certainly never run. Never. Actually, last year I was the only one of my roommates who didn't have a gym membership (slash: didn't wake up at 6 freaking o'clock in the morning to run miles and miles and miles...).

So you can imagine people's response when I tell them that I've decided to run the Chicago Marathon this year. Even my parents didn't believe me (each of the four times I assured them I was being serious).

But I am.