For as long as I can remember, running has not been my thing. Never liked it, never could do it, and there was something psychological about the fact that after two feet of running, I’d be done.
When I was in the IDF (Israeli Defense Force) it was a known fact that Ackerman (as they called me) doesn’t run. Somehow, I had finagled getting out of running drills. Even as a sergeant I never had to do them or lead them. I could do dozens of push-ups and/or sit-ups, but running? Not me.
People have conquered many issues during this pandemic. Some made bread, others learned how to sew. Some took up knitting. I decided that my running thing is a mind over matter issue. In it hides something bigger that I need to deal with now.
I downloaded an app from the couch to do a 5K, determined to start running. Mind you, I have downloaded this app a dozen times in the last five years. This time I decided I am going to do it. It helped that my kids get up later than I do and Zoom school is at home. No carpool express.
I am available in the morning to take on this new endeavor. I had to listen to a few different apps before I found the lady I liked, who calmly told me to run for one minute and then walk for one minute, run for two minutes and then walk for one minute.
If you had told me that at my age, which is a lovely age but not a spring chicken, and at my current weight, which is, well, impressive, I would be running 5 kilometers a few times a week, I would have laughed. I would have laughed so hard I would probably have cried. But thanks to my dear app, that is exactly what I am doing. Running 5k three to four times a week. That is the beauty of change. It is sometimes unexpected, surprising, and unimaginable -- the impossible made possible.
Every week I have the privilege of seeing change in action. People who knew nothing but crime, people who were led to do drugs by the circumstances of their life, people who, under the influence, lacked judgment, people who too many people in society wrote off without knowing that these are people with beautiful hearts, who are sensitive and special. So many of my students took the wrong path, but then, by the grace of God and their own strong will, made unimaginable changes in their life.
What I know from years of being an activist and a change maker is that change is slow, sometimes so slow you don’t even see it. What my running app taught me is that it is a gradual incline. First, I ran a minute, then I ran two, then I ran three, and then I ran five. I listen to books to distract me; I listen to music and I let my thoughts trail off. If you don’t focus on what you need to change, sometimes it is easier simply to do it.
“Ms., this kinda life was never my life. I don’t know how to do this. It’s not me. Ya’ Know. Have a job, show up every day, be responsible and shit.”
This one has the most exquisite heart of them all. If I was ever in trouble, she would be the one I would call. Believe me, she would arrive before I put the phone down.
“Maybe it was not who you were, but it is definitely who you are. That old you? She was a hiccup.”
“You’re funny, Ms.” She says and adds “I wasn’t a hiccup; I was IT. Nobody would fuck with me.”
I know this to be true. She was fierce and violent. She was hurt and had a very difficult life that left her with incredible challenges. I look at her and I could see in her face that she was scared. More than anything, change is scary. If you define yourself by one thing and then you change, who are you?
I tell her about my running app. She thinks it is the funniest thing that I run when the lady on the app tells me to.
“I only run when there is a siren chasing me.” We laugh together.
“I am no runner,” I tell her, “but now I run. It’s good. I think I actually enjoy it.” I add, “You don’t need everyone to be afraid of you. You need to be you. You are the sweetest, kindest, person I know. You have the biggest heart on this planet. Be the you that doesn’t need to hide behind the drugs and the violence. Everything else will fall into place. It will not be easy, but you got this. You don’t want people to be afraid of you.”
It got very quiet. She blushes.
“I gotta get used to being called those things, Ms.”
“Yes, you do,” I say.
“When you say those things, I don’t know who you are talking about.”
“I am talking about you, Girl. I have seen how good you have been to people here, what an amazing friend you are and how supportive you are of everyone. That gangster from the hood she isn’t here anymore.”
“Who is going to protect me if she is gone?” she asks.
“God!” someone yells out. To be honest, I was thinking that, too.
Then someone said, “As if that tough bitch protected you. She just made you think you were safe, but it was bull shit. The change protects you. That heart of yours, like she said, that will protect you.” the person added.
Then someone else said, “Sometimes nothing can protect you.” I see heads nodding, “But that ain’t no reason not to change, and try to do your best.”
I looked up while I was running. I saw the tree before me had totally changed and was in full bloom. A gorgeous yellow halo on the branches of the tree, and a carpet of fallen, yellow flowers surround the trunk of the tree and the sidewalk.
I run here every day and didn’t notice. I stopped to take a photo and an old woman who lived in the house next door came out to sweep the fallen flowers.
“Isn’t it crazy?” she says. “That ugly, bare tree overnight became a beauty queen.”
“Oh,” I respond, “She was never ugly. This one was always a beauty queen.”
The lady on my app tells me to run. I wave good-bye and go on my way.
I think of my student who was always who she was even when she wasn’t.
I smile to myself and wait for the lady to tell me it is time to walk again, and then remember that she will not tell me that for a while, because things have changed, and I now run for much longer than I actually walk.
