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New to Run DMZ? Here are some posts to help you become acquainted with my personal history.

On the Running Front

How I Became a Runner
On Being Mistaken for a Burglar
Foolishly Running While My Neighborhood Was Burning
Why Friends Make All The Difference When You DNF
Why I Am Always Injured
My Last Marathon
And Why It Went So Badly
My Return to Running
The Running Wife
Waxing Nostalgic
Why I Love Trails
Red Dress Run
Blood on the Street
As Running Injuries Go, This One Was a Whopper
Everyone Poops
Wow, Do I Feel Old
You Know You're Slow When the Finish Line is Gone
Running through a Difficult Time

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Holy Cannoli

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My first job out of graduate school was located in a State Street building between Quincy Market and the Custom House (clock tower), two prominent landmarks along Boston’s famed Freedom Trail. I frequently dodged tour groups accompanied by a costumed guide on my lunch hour and wondered what it must be like to see this place with fresh, relaxed eyes. So there I was with my three girlfriends doing the tourist thing last week during our two days in Boston. Any historical highlights along the Freedom Trail were more by chance that design. We basically parked our bags at the Mariner House in the North End and set off on foot to explore, beginning with lunch at one of my former meal hangouts, El Panini Express, right in the heart of Boston’s version of Little Italy. From there we hit the Faneuil Hall/Quincy Market complex and then I lead us on a circular tour of Downtown Crossing before finally finding Brimfield Street, on which the City Sports Basement can be found. I bought a pair of runni
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It’s Time for San Diego to Grow Up

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The current mayor of San Diego campaigned on a pledge to treat the place like a metropolis rather than a network of sprawling suburbs . You think San Francisco, Chicago, Boston and New York, and you immediately think compact blocks with mixed-use buildings, high-rise apartments and stately rowhouses, corner convenience stores, great ethnic restaurants and excellent public transportation.   San Diego has those things too, except the great public transit.    I was reminded of how much San Diego has grown during a recent early morning walk from Little Italy to Seaport Village via The Embarcadero . And again, a week later when we visited  our old suburb with family in town.    I can remember some of my first runs along the Embarcadero, dodging more homeless people than tourists, even during Comic-Con . The Gaslamp Quarter was still the nightspot it is now, but you took greater risks walking beyond its boundaries in the dark.    Cortez Hill, East Village, and Little Italy (pictured above
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The Staying Power of Running Friendships

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  The adage “Once a runner, always a runner” may eventually prove untrue. But I’ve learned that friendships built around running endure if they are meant to. I think to my current circle of close friends and 90% of them began with us running together. I’m including one that began with a hike, not a run, but it’s the same foundation built from conquering distance, counting steps and breathy-but-not-breezy conversations.   Walking works too, but for me, my personal identity remains tied to running. It’s probably why I’ll commit to walking for the rest of my life, and within weeks pick up the pace despite knowing the higher risk of injury and arthritic wobbles. It’s not a healthy relationship, I admit.    I wasn’t always a social runner. In fact, one of the reasons I took up that form of exercise in my teens was to escape into myself. In my 20s, it was to escape crying babies and a crabby husband. And in my 30s and 40s, it turned competitive. You think when you pass another runner that th
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