First! The winner of the Disney Baby Giveaway is commenter Beth who said, “I would love to win this as I have a baby shower to go to!” Congrats Beth! I’ll be in touch, and I hope your shower-ee loves this stuff as much as we do!

Thanks to everyone who participated.

communityofrunners

And second: community. Belonging. Being a part of something. Knowing who your people are. It’s important.

I’ve been feeling a little lost lately. Not quite sure of myself and my place. It’s a silly thing, really, because I spend so much time with “my” people. You know, the ones I birthed. They, and Micah, are the people that matter most to me, the people that I really want to spend my time with. And, generally speaking, I know who I am with them. The mean mom. The devoted wife. The source of comfort and stability.

But even with that anchor, I often feel myself drifting about uncertainly in doubt and indecision.

Except when I’m among my other people. The ones whose faces I rarely see because we are all moving the same direction around the loop at Prospect Park. The ones whose sweaty backs tell me how long they’ve been running and whose short-length tells me how serious they are about speed.

A comfortable silence reigns when I’m with them, one that I feel no need to break, though I am happy to chat with whomever is willing to break stride to stay at my pace for a few minutes. And when they do, I’m guaranteed to feel even more energized and rejuvenated by my run than I normally am. (I should do that more often.)

There are some, of course, whose faces I do know and look forward to seeing, no matter how briefly it is as we whizz by each other. There’s David, of course, who helped propel me up Devastation Pass soon after Little Miss was born. And then there’s the smiling guy, who runs the “wrong” way, with a friend, and who has a radiant grin and a high-five for anyone who wants one. There’s the dude with the goggles and the dreds who must practically live on that loop – I see him nearly every time I’m out. And Luigi. Good old Luigi. His real name, I believe, is Paul, but he looks much more like Luigi to me. Sometimes I’ll see him chugging along, all 70+ years of him, and sometimes he’ll be doing push-ups on the curb. Because why not.

Yes. Those are my people too. And I’m grateful for them and the reprieve I get from confusion and self-doubt when I am among them.

I’m one of them. We are a part of the same world, the same community. And I never doubt that I belong there. And that’s important.

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