Running hard and doing hard things (a reading life newsletter, obviously)

Hey readers, Ever since I began this newsletter back in 2011, I've appreciated having this space where I get to tell you things that are a little more personal than I might put on my blog. I hope you enjoy this edition, although I feel like I should warn you: buckle in, it's a long one. (But we're readers, and we like to read, yes? Carry on.) Readers can't help but see the metaphor of it all I've got a story for you, a story about running that I assure you is about more than running or I wouldn't be telling it, but first, the running part: This fall a couple of my kids began new athletic endeavors, which is why this weekend you could find me on the sidelines of a massive cross country meet in my state. (How many of us have been drawn into worlds we previously neither knew nor cared existed, because a friend or loved one took an interest and pulled us in with them? I'll pause to watch the hands go up.) I've spent a lot of weekends this way lately, finding my way around unfamiliar courses, learning the rhythms of a new-to-me sport, discovering all the ways it is weird and also weirdly fascinating. (Did you know cross country is a team sport? I didn't, not till this year.) I've always aspired to be a runner, but it's not something that comes easy to me. I'm naturally a fast reader, and a plodding runner. But I've come to appreciate the sport, and I love to see the fast runners—some of whom, incredibly, are in my own family—do what they do. I'm still learning how to watch a cross country race: this sport was not made for spectating. But I'm learning, and this weekend, I'd managed to position myself to see the whole throng of contenders rush downhill to the 2-mile mark in the high school girls' open 5k. I was watching for my own favorite runner, of course, and her teammates. I cheered them on, and let the record show I cheered them HARD. But there's a whole drama playing out on the course, every time, and I can't help but see that, too. And there's one pair of runners I'd like to tell you about. After I'd waved and cheered my own runner on, I watched two teammates run downhill around the corner, wearing jerseys from a school whose name I didn't recognize. Well before I could see them, I could hear them coming. Or, more accurately, I could hear one of them: she was sobbing, actually sobbing, with heaving gasps that made me wonder how she could suck in enough oxygen to cry and run at the same time. And her teammate was right alongside her, holding the crook of her arm, matching her stride. I don't know what this girl was crying about. I'm new to cross country, and one of the (numerous) things that's surprised me is how many tears it involves. There are always a half dozen athletes in every race—and of every age—who cross the finish line with tears streaming down their face, tears of pain and joy and disappointment. I've teared up myself as I watch my own runners, as I congratulate them on doing hard things, on doing their best and leaving it all on the course. (That won't be a surprise to longtime readers: you know I'm a giant sap about these things.) As these two girls got closer, I could see that her teammate was talking to her through her sobs. I wanted to hear what she was saying, and soon enough she was right beside me, and I could hear her words to her bawling teammate: I'm right here. I know it's hard. I've got you. You've got this. You can do it. We'll do it together. I'm right here. You've got this. (If you're thinking, That's a lot of words for the middle of a race, well, I was too!) How can you not cheer for a pair like that? I clapped and I yelled (You're doing great, one mile to go, keep it up, runners!) and I thought about all the things that make this sport so hard: you compete against other runners, and you compete against yourself. To get better, you have to keep running—in the rain, in the cold, in the heat, when you're tired or bored or have a million other things you'd rather be doing. For all that work, a handful of runners get trophies and medals but a lot more have nothing to show for all that work at the end of a season, except the satisfaction of giving it your all, and the camaraderie of your teammates, and, for some, the knowledge that though at the beginning of the season you couldn't string two miles together, today, if you wanted, you could lace up your sneaks and head out the door for six easy miles—and be back home in an hour. Sometimes you battle illness, and injury, and that (as we've seen in my house this season) changes the calculus. You hurt a muscle, a tendon, a joint, and in an instant you're no longer worried about improving—your goal becomes simply to keep running, at any speed. And if you can't do that, you keep up your endurance however you can, making friends with the rower, elliptical, stairmaster. You learn there are other ways to contribute to the communal cause—you lug Gatorade, you work the stopwatch at time trials, you cheer for your team as hard as you can. Because you know how hard it is out there on the course, and you don't have to run fast to affect the final outcome. As you can probably tell, my writerly brain ran away with the metaphor of it all, before those two girls could round the bend and run out of sight. You may not be a runner, but I will bet anything that you do hard things. I do hard things, and you know what I want, above all, (though I'm not sure I could have told you that before I saw these two girls, together)? Someone right next to me, holding the crook of my arm, saying, You got this, it's hard, but we'll do it, together. I cheered those young women, and I wanted to tell them that they were doing it right, that they knew what mattered, that they were winning, even if though they weren't getting trophies or medals, not in this race. Maybe they have smiled and said, We know it. Or maybe they would they have rolled their eyes and thought, Grown-ups, so sappy. I kind of want both to be true.. Readers, please know that I just assume as a matter of course that you're doing hard things right now. I hope you have someone holding your arm, cheering you on, holding you up. Please know, no matter what, that we know you're doing hard things, and we want to see you finish strong. We believe you can do it. We're rooting for you. Keep running. Let's hang out I'm hitting the road some more this fall to meet readers and teach writers in Winston-Salem, Charlotte, Nashville, Huntsville, and Cincinnati. I would love to meet you in person! [Please check out my full upcoming events list right here](=). And if I'm not coming your way this fall, I sincerely hope I can visit you this spring when I'm on tour for my new book [Don't Overthink It](. Popular on the blog: - [20 historical mysteries featuring feisty female protagonists.](=) Some are brash, bold, and bossy. Others are quiet, cerebral, and strong. Most of them drink copious amounts of tea, and all of them are absolute badasses. Do not miss the recommendations in the comments! - [Fall Book Preview](. We hosted a live Fall Book Preview event for our Modern Mrs Darcy Book Club and What Should I Read Next Patreon communities that was so much fun. I shared an abridged version on the blog. I hope you find a book (or six) that sounds good! - [7 things I learned in September.]() I always enjoy putting together these reflections. Your thoughts on firstborn daughters and Trader Joe's products with cult followings blew up the comments section. - [All about the inaugural MMD Book Club Retreat.]( Here's a peek into that event! - [16 Shakespeare-inspired books for readers of all ages.]() No matter how you feel about Shakespeare, there's something for everyone on this list. On the podcasts: These recent episodes cover a lot of bookish territory but hold one crucial thing in common: they are all so stinking fun! - [WSIRN Ep 201: The hidden value of a terrible reading experience.]( Sometimes horrible books teach us lessons we end up thinking about allllll the time. - [WSIRN Ep 202: The art (and awfulness) of the cliffhanger.]( This was a double feature episode featuring a pair of sisters. But unlike most of our episodes with multiple guests, they aren’t looking to find titles they’ll enjoy together. We’re looking to individualize their reading lives with totally separate recommendations. - [WSIRN Ep 203: What happens in book club stays in book club.]( Two repentant book snobs walk into a room … and what you get is this FUN episode. - Only two episodes left of [One Great Book](=) season 3! Which episode has been your favorite so far? Readers, I hope you are ready to keep running—and to keep reading—this season. Happy reading! Anne P.S. Daisy is losing it because someone in my house just spilled chili on our WALL (who spills chili on the wall?). That is all. She says hi, by the way. Do you have a friend who would enjoy getting these emails? Please forward this email on to them. [Modern Mrs Darcy](=) | 6000 Brownsboro Park Blvd Ste H, Louisville, Kentucky 40207 [Opt Out of Blog Posts Only](=) | [Unsubscribe from all MMD emails](