If you give a mouse a cookie, it’s going to want a glass of milk. And if Sarah starts running, she’s going to want to run a race. Apparently. After seeing the Falmouth Road Race finish line, I knew that running with a bunch of other enthusiastic people would be more fun than looping around the track until my brain got too bored to go on. Then my HA’s told everyone that our first dorm event would be attending the Portland Race for the Cure. I knew I was not going to be walking with the rest of my dormies!

I did the Women’s 5k, noncompetitive. (And there were two other runners from the dorm.) Three miles — easy, right? I ran three miles every day my Sophomore year. The only obstacle to overcome was a pull in some weird upper leg muscle that I sustained during the Eagle Creek hike a week before the race. For those who don’t know, Eagle Creek is easy — twelve miles to the impressive Tunnel Falls at the end, but flat the whole way. What got me was not the trail. It was lunch.

Our leader suggested we picnic down by the creek itself. Fine, except that the path down to the creek is steep and covered in dry dirt and loose rocks. I slipped rather than walked down, and though I was more careful getting back up, I think I put undue strain on some important hill-climbing and stair-stepping ligaments. I could run okay, but by the end of each day I could barely lift my right leg. But I had to train! Six laps, three miles, five kilometers — one week.

And I made it. I even passed people, by golly, like a mother telling her small daughter to “focus on your visualization training!” That’s hard-core. I just run because it feels good, it gives me energy, and at an event like Race for the Cure, I get people cheering me on. The context, however, was a little disconcerting — booths advertising cars and toilet paper, a mile-long “panty line” for Macy’s free pink underwear, and an almost celebratory attitude towards having family members with breast cancer. Fortunately it was too early for critical social analysis.

With one accomplishment comes a bit of a downer, however: my Watson Fellowship application (learn to cook with vegetarians around the world) was turned down by Reed. I’m not terribly disappointed since I have plenty of other things I’d rather be doing next year, but I do feel like I wasted the time of my professors. Steve Hibbard and Rob Brightman kindly wrote letters of recommendation at the last minute, and Rob helped immensely in writing a solid project proposal. On the other hand, Rob also said my discussion questions for our Nature, Culture, Environmentalism class were ‘very nice,’ and he told me today that my final paper for Algonquian last year — on puns! — was one of his favorites.

Ah, ego boosts.