As July comes to a close, I realize that I must give thanks. Thanks for a flexible work situation that allows for travel with my children while they’re on vacation from the rigorous schedule that the school year commands. Thankful for family members who live in wonderful places. And thankful to be a runner.

In this month alone, I’ve run and raced in the hills and humidity of Atlanta – actually enjoying the bigness of our city and the many people in it. I’ve run on the beach, alone on the endless stretches of sand, allowing me to cruise for miles as I think through some of the life decisions facing our family right now. And I’ve run in the mountains with my very good sport husband, above 8,000 feet, cruising to the treetops as the sun comes up over the peaks, smelling pine and listening to rushing water.

If I wasn’t a runner, I wouldn’t know these places like I do. Personally and in a connected way. I wouldn’t have the experience of cheering crowds on the streets of a city, uninterrupted stretches of salt air filled time just for thinking, or a very special early morning date with my wonderful husband. But I am. I’m a runner. And for that, I’m so very thankful.