50 Something Moms

I started running in college. I was nineteen. I took a PE course on jogging because it was the only one I could find with openings and I had yet to work up the courage to take ballet. Somehow the idea of a shapeless t-shirt and baggy shorts was less intimidating than pink tights and a skin tight black leotard.

Despite the fact that I was not fast and was so flat-footed I took to running on the balls of my feet like a sprinter, I took to running like a gazelle on the open veldt. The freedom of limb and the sensation of time melding with movement was addictive. Read Full Article

“What does it mean to stand on guard for thee?” Kat, my six year old, asked me recently.

The teachers at her school had been relentlessly preparing the kids for a spirit day assembly – which I missed – twice.

“Don’t you remember anything anymore, Mom?” was the stinging rebuke I took for that.

But getting back to Canada, the schools here do an excellent job of laying the Canadian pride groundwork at the elementary level, I am guessing the superiority complex and intense disdain for Americans will come during the upper grade levels. Read Full Article