Laura Smith Writer

13.1

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Yesterday, at 8:30 am, I was standing in the middle of 4,500 amazing people. How would I know they were all amazing? Three, two, one and we were off. All of us moving as a unit, with one goal in mind, it didn’t matter if we were old, young, black, white, thin or fat. It didn’t matter if we were Republican or Democrat, Atheist or Mormon, we were all united, we were all ready. Eighty degrees, sunny, Jennings Beach, we were all clad in sneakers and ready. Moving together toward the 13.1 mile marker and our finisher medal, toward a goal to mark off our bucket list, a PR, or fundraiser for charity, we were all moving toward that marker. Each mile brought smiles, each cheer brought motivation. We moved toward a common goal. We stopped for water, cheered the first place runner as he passed us (he was at mile 11 while we were trudging at 4). We pushed up hills, we raced down the other side. We found relief in the shade and struck up conversations.  “Are you from this area?” “No, I’m from Maryland.” We danced as we passed bands, or neighbors blasting car stereos and yelling, “you can do it.” We were runners. We were a power. Losing myself in the crowd yesterday, I was aware that I am part of something much grander than I could have imagined. I get sucked into the daily lonely struggle of being human, of separating myself and thinking that I (me, myself and I) have to organize and execute my life. But I am always part of a grander scheme, whether that is a runner among runners or a child of God. I am not alone. I reached the 13.1 mile marker among 4,500 other people. I reached the finish line as a member of the human race, a child of a power much greater than myself. If I am to grow spiritually, the “I” needs to become “We.” Because even when I think I am alone, I am not. I am surrounded by countless other people who have gone through (insert blank) before me. Today, we are sore, we ice muscles, we take ibuprofen and we start planning the next race, to beat that time, to experience the middle of the pack. Because we are runners.

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● About Me

I wrote and published my first blog post on May 26, 2009. I was about to turn 36 and had been accepted to Mount Holyoke College as a non-traditional student, on my way to completing a Bachelor of Arts in English with a minor in Medieval Studies. I had managed, finally, to know what general direction I was traveling. As a self proclaimed voracious reader I knew that I needed a vocation that would allow me to engage daily with words: reading words, writing words, and hearing words. I also needed to eat, so I navigated my way to a teaching position and I began to fine tune my craft. I love to teach and I love my students, but I also needed to continue to hone my own literary technique, voice, and style. I continued my education in order to delve deeper into literature, making connections, and most definitely, writing. I gained more confidence as a reader as well as a writer of both creative and analytical text. That first blog post in 2009 is short, the writing average, and the topic mundane, but as I continued to learn from other writers I began to understand that to become a better writer I needed to write more. Each time I write and release a poem, a post, or a story, I hone my skills. I invite you along for the ride, for this journey of mine as I attempt to wrangle a wealth of ideas and competing directions into an organized freshly paved path to publication. I might get distracted along the way, but sometimes those detours lead us to amazing views and new friends. 

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