Bad knees, full hearts, can't lose

Also: My time with the Scrabble kings of Liberia [Donate ❤️]( [View in Browser](  April 14, 2024 Dear Cog reader, My television-watching habits have a very “endurance junkie” vibe: Ultra runners training for 100-mile races, climbers on K2 expeditions, Diana Nyad swimming from Florida to Cuba. The grittier the better. I haven’t completed any of these feats myself, mind you — nor do I have any plans to. But for a middle-aged, former collegiate athlete who's (let’s be honest) grappling with the reality that I’ll never be as strong or as fast as I once was, stories like these spark my imagination. They make me wonder: If they can do that, what might I do? My heart swells watching people test the limits of human capacity. Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that I love the Boston Marathon. It’s been my very favorite event to cover since I came to WBUR. I’ve gotten to work with some Boston legends over the years: [Amby Burfoot]( [Kathrine Switzer]( [Meb Keflezighi]( [Sara Mae Berman]( [Des Linden]( [Tatyana McFadden]( [Kara Goucher](. Last year we published a beautiful [collection of voices]( to mark the 10 years since the marathon bombings. This year, we took a different approach and focused on one regular, back-of-the-pack runner: Barbara Moran, an environmental correspondent at WBUR. I’m certain Barb would wave me off, but you should know: She’s a serious athlete. She’s run five marathons in her life, though her last one was about 20 years ago. Barb’s now 53, has bad knees (one will be replaced soon) and hasn’t run more than the occasional 5K in a decade. On paper, this woman has no business running one of the world’s toughest marathons, but she signed up anyway. She’ll be one of thousands of Boston runners raising money for nonprofit organizations this year (during the 2023 race, some 2,500 participants raised [$40.2 million](. I was drawn to [Barb’s story]( because I really like Barb — she’s a hoot, and a wonderful collaborator and colleague. But also because I wanted to see if she could do it. Could she physically complete the training and find peace, in her own way, with running? Could she help me find peace? I’m not summarizing Barb’s essay here — it deserves to be read in full — but I will share a little behind-the-scenes peek about how this essay, and the accompanying radio piece, came to be. For months, Barb recorded voice memos documenting her training. Before a run, on the street, in her basement. And I accompanied her for a few miles on a couple of her training runs. We met up on a sunny day in Hopkinton and then on a miserably, rainy, cold one to run the Newton Hills. She told me how she procrastinated by studying the marathon course, poring over every rise and dip in elevation. I got to know her playlist (it includes Chris Cornell and the “Rocky” theme song). She told me how much her knees hurt and divulged the contents of her medicine cabinet. I, meanwhile, was in awe of her commitment: The 5 a.m. regular wake ups and elaborate warm-up routines. I coveted the simplicity of her singular focus and long-run Saturdays. The world has been feeling awfully unstable lately, and watching Barb I remembered how a difficult physical task — like running 20 miles in the rain or eight miles before work — could, oddly, keep you tethered to Earth. I knew this once, but I forgot. I’ve run several half marathons and two full marathons: Boston in 2006 (as a charity runner) and Philadelphia in 2009 (where, I’m proud to say, I finished just under 4 hours). At one point I dreamed of qualifying for Boston — and I might’ve been able to do it, but life intervened. Pregnancy and work and getting older and all the rest. I thought my serious running days were over; I thought that dragging my body through such hardship was pointless, unless I could run at a certain pace. Barb changed my mind. Somehow, bearing witness to her training gave me more acceptance and gratitude for the body I have now, and feel less duped by nostalgia. It made me think about what it would feel like to test my own capacity, instead of watching from the sidelines (or the couch). Maybe it’ll be me on the starting line in Hopkinton next year? Time will tell. Good luck to Barb, and all the runners. May the temperatures be cool; may the wind be at your back. Cloe Axelson Senior Editor, Cognoscenti Support the news  Must Reads [The Boston Marathon is every runner's dream, including mine]( Barbara Moran, 53, has run five marathons, but the last one was 20 years ago. She gave up running regularly when arthritis began eating away at her knees. What if she could run one more? When Barb started training for Boston, she thought she was trying to hold onto her younger self. Instead, she grew. [Read more.]( [The Boston Marathon is every runner's dream, including mine]( Barbara Moran, 53, has run five marathons, but the last one was 20 years ago. She gave up running regularly when arthritis began eating away at her knees. What if she could run one more? When Barb started training for Boston, she thought she was trying to hold onto her younger self. Instead, she grew. [Read more.]( [My time with the Scrabble kings of Liberia]( Like many refugees adrift in the world today, the Liberians Sasha Chanoff met in Ivory Coast were not allowed to work, and for most there was no school. With nothing to do and no place to go, weeks, months and years merged, he writes. Time lost meaning and a board game became their favorite activity. [Read more.]( [My time with the Scrabble kings of Liberia]( Like many refugees adrift in the world today, the Liberians Sasha Chanoff met in Ivory Coast were not allowed to work, and for most there was no school. With nothing to do and no place to go, weeks, months and years merged, he writes. Time lost meaning and a board game became their favorite activity. [Read more.]( [Why we write]( Any stories that are good originate from the deepest precincts of our inner lives, from our obsessions and fears and desires, writes Steve Almond. We write about what we can’t get rid of by any other means. [Read more.]( [Why we write]( Any stories that are good originate from the deepest precincts of our inner lives, from our obsessions and fears and desires, writes Steve Almond. We write about what we can’t get rid of by any other means. [Read more.]( [Well, Red Sox fans: At least we have Josh Kantor on the organ]( Fenway Park is part of the fabric of my life, writes longtime Red Sox fan Jim Sullivan. And organist Josh Kantor’s clever mind and musicianship is one of the best parts of the season. [Read more.]( [Well, Red Sox fans: At least we have Josh Kantor on the organ]( Fenway Park is part of the fabric of my life, writes longtime Red Sox fan Jim Sullivan. And organist Josh Kantor’s clever mind and musicianship is one of the best parts of the season. [Read more.]( What We're Reading - “Today is Sunday. It’ll be Thursday before I see a single photon again. That’s 82 hours, alone, in the absolute absence of light. I can’t think about any of that now. Instead, I go to bed early and pretend everything is all right. But it isn’t. Things are about to get really, really weird.” “[The Darkness That Blew My Mind]( Outside - “Differential subsidence is not only threatening railways, the researchers found, but all kinds of other critical infrastructure, like levees and airports.” “[Mexico City’s Metro System Is Sinking Fast. Yours Could Be Next]( Wired "That’s the part that I can’t shake: We’ve let tech companies and their products set the terms of the argument about what education should be, and too many people, myself included, didn’t initially realize it.” “[Get Tech Out of the Classroom Before It’s Too Late]( The New York Times "... Fenway Park is part of the fabric of my life and [Josh] Kantor’s clever mind and musicianship is one of the best parts of the season. " — Jim Sullivan ICYMI [Running is everything to me. What if it’s time to say goodbye?]( Jason Clemence ran 24,733 miles between June 2008 and January 2024. And then, he couldn't run anymore. It's hard to know what to do when the thing that brought you pride and relief is suddenly just gone. [Read more.]( [Running is everything to me. What if it’s time to say goodbye?]( Jason Clemence ran 24,733 miles between June 2008 and January 2024. And then, he couldn't run anymore. It's hard to know what to do when the thing that brought you pride and relief is suddenly just gone. [Read more.]( If you’d like to write for Cognoscenti, send your submission, pasted into your email and not as an attachment, to opinion@wbur.org. Please tell us in one line what the piece is about, and please tell us in one line who you are. 😎 Forward to a friend. They can sign up [here](. 🔎 Explore [WBUR's Field Guide]( stories, events and more. 📣 Give us your feedback: newsletters@wbur.org 📧 Get more WBUR stories sent to your inbox. [Check out all of our newsletter offerings.]( Support the news     Want to change how you receive these emails? 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