I promised myself by the time I turned 40 I would run the Falmouth Road Race. I had watched it as a spectator for years and knew one day I wanted to experience it as a participant. Four years after my deadline, I did it – I ran seven hilly miles on a humid August day. A friend told a mutual acquaintance what I had done and the acquaintance responded, “So then she must have lost some weight.” I had just run seven miles. I had honored a commitment to myself. I had a great time doing it. And she wanted to know about a number on a scale? I started running to avoid taking a medication prescribed by my doctor. I thought my health was the motivation that helped me fit exercise into an already packed day, but when I crossed the finish line in Falmouth, I realized it was more than that. Growing up I never played sports, much less exercised. I was the kid picked last for teams. My nickname in elementary school was Big Foot, a joke about my inability to get on base during Friday afternoon kickball games. My lack of athletic prowess only bothered [...]






