Closer

We are inching closer to the release date for All in Stride!  This is perhaps my favorite time in the cycle of publishing a book. A few select people begin to read the whole damn thing and I start to get feedback.  All the hard work and loneliness of researching and writing disappears a bit as I prepare for the book to be out in the universe. 

I’ve already been humbled by the addition of Kathrine Switzer (above with me at the TCS New York City Marathon Expo) to the cover of the book. She wrote the foreword for me and you’re gonna love it. Now, I’m honored to announce the individuals who’ve contributed endorsements, several of which will grace the back cover.  They are a distinguished group, and I’ll admit I’m pinching myself a bit that they’ve read the book and wrapped their arms around it. 

I really cannot dream bigger than this group of talented runners, authors and advocates.

-       MEB KEFLEZIGHI, four-time Olympian, silver medalist in the 2004 Athens Olympic Games in the marathon, and winner of the Boston and New York City Marathons

-       DEENA KASTOR, Olympic medalist in the marathon, New York Times bestselling author of Let Your Mind Run

-       GEORGE HIRSCH, founder of the New York City Marathon, magazine publisher, and Chair Emeritus of the New York Road Runners Club

-       CHRISTINE YU, author of Up to Speed: The Groundbreaking Science of Women Athletes

-       MOLLY HUDDLE, two-time Olympian, author, and mother

-       NATOSHA ROGERS, professional distance runner, two-time World Championship finalist in the 10k

-       NATHAN MARTIN, American professional distance runner

-       SHANNON ROWBURY, three-time Olympian, sports broadcaster, and mother of two

Time for Number Three

Well, hello there! It’s been a minute, as they say. 3-plus years and one pandemic later, I’m here for a quick blog update to let y’all know that book number three is on the way! This one has been yet another labor of love, born from my love of running. As you can see from my redesigned website, the mountains of Sichuan Province in China have been replaced with professional athletes. The stories I share in my next book of their lives, their failures and their triumphs should make for another compelling read. At least that’s the hope.

The book is called All in Stride: A Journey in Running, Courage and the Search for the American Dream. With an expected publication date of April 2024, we will launch in Boston during the week of the Boston Marathon. I intend to book as many events as possible to make up for the fact that the Edge of the Map book tour was cancelled because of a little thing called COVID in 2020.

Check back for updates, to pre-order and watch my event page slowly populate. And by all means, drop a line to say hi. It’s been a minute.

Yours in climbing and running, Johanna

Official Book Trailer!

First comes research.  Many hours of phone calls.  Trips around the country and around the world.

 Next comes writing.  Late nights and early mornings going over every word until you can’t see straight.

 Now, the part that some authors hate but I tend to love.  The promoting and marketing and speaking and selling and finally watching as other people enjoy the story. 

 A million things go into this last part.  Event planning.  Podcast interviews.  Social media blitzes.  A pile of tasks that keeps on coming.  Among the pile was one task that seemed at first to be over the top.  A book trailer is a great idea, they said.  But isn’t it expensive, I wondered?  Yes, but surely you have someone in your orbit who can do something like this for you and not break the bank, they said.

 Bart Garton, you creative genius.  Thank you for your time, your attention to detail and your passion for this project.  Seeing you get sucked into Christine’s story just as much as I had was a joy and I loved every minute of keeping it in the family.

With gratitude, Johanna

Charlie’s Bottle

One of the most meaningful experiences I had while writing Edge of the Map involved a fuel bottle, a Tibetan motorcycle driver and a thoughtful sister.

Among the items found on the slopes of Mount Genyen in 2006 was Charlie Fowler’s fuel bottle. At the time of discovery six weeks after the avalanche, it was still filled with gas. Rather than deal with emptying it and returning it to Charlie’s survivors, the canister was kept in Chengdu at the home of Jon Otto, a mountain guide who’d helped lead the search and recovery. It seemed impersonal and of little value to anyone, not to mention it reeked of fuel and would need to clear customs at multiple airports in the post-9/11 era.

So the bottle stayed in China.

Eleven years later as I prepared to travel to Genyen, I learned of the bottle in a late night, overseas phone call with Jon.

“Say, I’ve still got Charlie’s gas can. Think maybe you can finally bring it home and get it to his sister?” Jon said.

“Oh wow…yes for sure,” I replied. “Let’s empty it somehow, wash it and I’ll get it to Ginny.”

A few weeks later I arrived in Chengdu. The bottle was a standard, red, MSR version. I held it, the smooth, cold aluminum still carrying the fuel that Chris and Charlie would have used to cook a meal had they reached the summit of Genyen those many years ago. It was still intact, only a few chips in the paint and no dents or evidence that it had survived an avalanche.

The next day as we traveled on the Tibetan Plateau, Jon and I spot a Tibetan motorcycle driver at a rest stop. We pull over and approach him, a bright smile revealing several gold teeth. His bike is weighed down with thick blankets, bags of grain and a white canvas tarp.

“I’ve got an extra liter of cooking gas,” I offer in broken Chinese. “Think you can use it?” I hold out the can and give it a shake, jostling the contents as I point to his gas tank.

He nods, an indication that he’s understood, but probably only speaks Tibetan.

Jon carefully empties the gas into his tank, and the motorcycle man beams. It’s an extra day of fuel that will last many miles. Driving off, he waves. I watch him disappear, hoping Charlie is somewhere looking on and elated that his fuel didn’t go to waste.

The fuel canister fills a corner in my backpack, sharing space with camping gear, bottles of Diamox and a journal to take notes. Each day I cradle it, sometimes falling asleep with it in my hands.

One month later, I was back in the United States. After my parents, one of the first people I touched base with was Charlie’s sister. She’d known of my travels and the plan to bring her brother’s fuel bottle home.

Dear Ginny,

I’m back from my travels to the Genyen Valley and I must say that if there’s a more beautiful place in all the world, I cannot imagine it. Let’s chat soon so I can fill you in beyond a quick email.

One quick thing that I’d like to run past you…

Jon Otto kindly helped me clean up Charlie’s fuel bottle so I could bring it home. We found a grizzly, old Tibetan motorcycle driver deep in western Sichuan and he was delighted to fill his tank with the eleven-year-old gas!

I made it through the various airports just fine and the canister is now sitting on my desk, looking over me as I continue working on the manuscript. And I must say, I’ve grown attached to it. There’s nothing remarkable about it, really. I’m including a photo and you can see that Charlie had wrapped a strip of duct tape around it. The prayer flags littered the grounds around the monastery and I kept just these pieces and tied them on. To anyone else, it’s just a silly bottle, but to me it feels priceless.

So I’m wondering how you’d feel if I kept it just a little longer?

Johanna

I waited for a response, and in her usual manner, it came quickly. In keeping with the kindness I’d become familiar with, each of Chris and Charlie’s loved ones were gracious, their only consideration being to provide me with what I needed to capture the story best.

Eighteen months later Charlie’s fuel bottle continues to sit, retired on my desk. A lovely home, though I’d rather it be off in the wilderness somewhere. With him. Seeking the solitude and beauty that took both Chris and Charlie to unexplored places.

Wheels Up!

Funny little things happen when you're a family who has the travel bug.  Random foreign coins show up in couch cushions at home, suitcases get torn apart from overuse and passports need to be put in a location accessible at a moment's notice.  You also tend to find ways to combine work with pleasure.

This summer, Will and I are taking three weeks of June to head back to Asia.  I'll be dropping him in Kunming, China with his friend Rhae, where they'll live for a couple weeks with a host family, taking Mandarin lessons in the mornings and volunteering at an English school in the afternoons.  Meanwhile, I'll be off the grid in Nepal and remote parts of China doing research for my next book.  Crossing fingers I'll have enough Wifi juice every now and then to post updates.  Stay tuned!

Listing

The conversation at dinner revolved around the theme of….obsession.  This was a welcome topic, as the night before we’d discussed the “sex talk” the middle schoolers had that day in health class and my mind nearly exploded at the transparency of the entire thing.  I couldn’t believe my 12-year-old had been asked to put a condom on his finger or that he was now asking me “why they needed to be flavored anyway” when he’d noticed the green apple label on the wrapper.  Eden had gawked at me as I bumbled through a response, her 8-year-old mind unable to fathom my honest answer.

 Did I put a condom on my finger in middle school, I wondered?

 I was equal parts incredulous and impressed with health class.

Yes.  Obsession was a less intense topic tonight.  

I listed mine, being careful to list only things that were decidedly non human and inedible. 

-       Sloths

-       Thumb holes on sleeves

-       My vegetable spiralizer

-       The word “indestructible”

-       Fleece-covered hot water bottles

-       Iceland

None of these items provided much enthusiasm at dinner, but it started me on a list binge.  The next one…impatience.  The homework dragged on that night and I suddenly felt ever-impatient.  Beyond endless homework I was also impatient for the following:

-       The fancy jelly beans only sold at Easter

-       A cure for Parkinson’s Disease

-       The passing of adolescence

-       The sprouting of the basil I planted every June

-       The finale of The Bachelor

-       Every mile marker at the end of a marathon

As I lay in bed I then listed the things I couldn’t understand.

-       Donald Trump’s hair

-       The tax code

-       Stretch marks

-       Kumquats

-       The popularity of fluffy cat videos

-       Leg warmers

-       The premise behind the movie Batman v Superman

Tomorrow night’s dinner topic…Sports, the meal, Taylor Swift. 

Things decidedly less likely to produce… an obsession, a moment of impatience, a list or a reference to green apples.  Definitely no green apples.

Mile By Mile

In about ten days, I’ll be lining up with 30,000 other people on the starting line of the Boston Marathon in Hopkinton, Massachusetts.  What started as a goal to finish a marathon 20 years ago has gotten to be a bit of a hobby.  I lost track after marathon number 15, and now my job is to train as little as humanly possible so I can just finish about one per year.  Boston, in particular has a special place in my heart because it’s close enough to several of my college running buddies that we make it a Girls’ Weekend.  The priority list reads more like….Girls’ Weekend’ first, small road race second. 

Jenn and Ann are famous for their epic sprints by foot, car and train to see me at various points along the course.  Depending on the weather, they’re equipped with all the essentials.  Icy pops, cooling packs and frozen sponges for hot race days.  Extra hats, hand warmers and fleece pants for cold race days. 

Their presence along the course is invaluable.  Without them, I’d surely have crawled into the crowds that line the course at Fenway Park, bought a beer and watched the Red Sox instead of finish.  While I look forward to seeing them at our various meeting points, the truth is that for most of the race, it’s just a whole lot of…me.  Me in my head.  Me stomping the pavement.  Me talking to myself.  Me questioning my intentions in putting my body through such a grueling workout. 

The conversation is one-sided and usually a repeat of the year before.  This year, I thought it best to do myself a favor and just map it out in advance, mile by mile.

It sounds a little like this…

Start:  Here we go!  This is gonna be great.  I love this race.  All these people with this glorious energy.

Mile 1:  Downhill.  Don’t go too fast.  I’ve got a pace and I need to keep it.

Mile 2:  Hmmm….What if I trip on a crack in the road?  Ohmygosh what if I acutally fall or pull a hamstring or something?  That would totally bite. 

Mile 3:  Okay let’s see…listen to music or listen to crowds?  I wonder how much this iphone weighs?  I wonder if I would be running faster if I didn’t have it?  Why did I even bother to bring it?  I could have just brought one of those ipod shuffle things.  It’s not like someone is going to text me and I can text back.  Omg what if I get hot and dump water on my head and it soaks the iphone?  I totally should have left it at home.  Drat. 

Mile 4:  Why in the world is there a runner wearing a banana suit?  And what about that woman in a tutu?  Actually, the tutu is kinda cute.  Gotta give her credit. 

Mile 5:  It might be fun to talk to someone this year.  Strike up a conversation and just see where it goes.  Wait, no…that’s a terrible idea.  I’d probably hear all about things like sore body parts and all the improper training techniques they’ve heard about.  I’m the total DEFINITION of sore body parts and improper training techniques.  I better just….keep to myself.

Mile 6:  Shower or bath after the race?  I wonder if it’s too extravagant to do both? 

Mile 7:  What about food?  What am I really craving when this thing is done?  Is it sushi?  A fruity cocktail?   Whatever it is…room service.  Definitely room service.  Why do they charge you such an exhorbetant rate for room service delivery?  Oh my gosh…that reminds me…what’s the deal with tipping housekeepers, anyway?  Do you do that AFTER the first night of your stay or at the end?  That’s a thankless job…I need to tip housekeepers more.

Mile 8:  These crowds are just unreal.  There is nothing like Boston.  I’m so overwhelmed.  I need to move to New England.  Could I fit in, or would I just look like a hippy little Colorado girl?

Mile 9:  I should do something productive right now.  I should think of new ideas for a short story or a book.  What about fiction?  Could I do that?  Oh my god I would be TERRIBLE at fiction.  Maybe something about running.  I’m a good runner.  Look at me…I’m at mile 9 and I’m just getting warmed up.

Mile 10:  I need to make Eden an appointment for a haircut.  You know how the stylist always tells little girls that if they cut their hair shorter it will grow faster?  What’s the deal with that…is that really true?  Also I should go get my hair blown out tomorrow.  It will be all knotty and gross and it would be nice to have someone else wash and dry it.  That seems like a fun career.  Maybe I should go to beauty school.  Beauty school?  Do they still CALL it beauty school?  That’s so…Olivia Newton John and Grease. 

Mile 11:  I love the people who put their names on their race shirts.  Then everyone cheering shouts their actual name.  That must feel good.  Until mile 23 and then maybe they want to tell the spectators to shut the bleep up. 

Mile 12:  I’m really tired of lemon lime Gatorade.

Mile 13: Here come the Wellesley girls.  They hold these signs saying, “Kiss Me!!!”  I’m totally going to kiss a girl.  If I spend an entire 10 mintues running past cute college girls and picking the right one to smooch, I won’t even know that a mile passed.

Mile 14:  I have to pee.  Oh god, do I really have to pee?  If I don’t pee, will it just get absorbed back into my system and hydrate me?  How does that work?  I should have listened to the psychic I saw last month who told me I should go to medical school.  Omg, I cannot believe I went to a psychic. 

Mile 15:  My legs know.  This is the real deal.  They’re totally saying, “Holy crap she’s doing one of these marathon things again.  For the love of pete, Woman…you’re 45 years old!  Enough is enough.  Go back to yoga class and hang out in Down Dog!”

Mile 16:  Hills.  Ouch.  This is dumb.  Why do I do this? 

Mile 17:  Where are Jenn and Ann?  I thojght they were going to be at 16.5 but now it’s 17 miles.  I need to see them and stretch for a minute.  Omg, what if I passed them and they didn’t see me?  Did I tell them what I’m wearing so they know what to look for?  I should have worn neon.  Oh wait…there they are!  Hallelujah.

Mile 18:  How many more mintues until I see them again?  Holy smokes…I think it will be another 40 minutes.  Should I run faster?  Can I run faster? 

Mile 19:  Must think of something other than my body.  How about the body of the man in front of me.  He has no body fat.  What’s the deal with men?  My husband can practically just LOOK at a bicycle and he loses five pounds.  I hate him.  Oh god, I didn’t just say that.  No, I don’t.  I don’t hate my husband.  I love my husband.  I’m losing it.  Is this what women feel like during childbirth?  I need more lemon line Gatorade.  I need a massage.  I need a bubble bath.

Mile 20:  Heartbreak Hill.  I see you, you ridiculous hill.  You think you can crush me, but I trained at altitude.  I ran up mountains.  I have more white blood cells than anyone else in this race.  White blood cells?  Wait…is it white or red blood cells? 

Mile 21:  My college cross country coach was so good at visualization.  I should do more of that right now.  I should visualize myself being lifted by balloons.  I should visualize the finish line or the faces of my children.  Here we go.  I’m gonna try that. 

…..

…..

…..
 

Drat.  That didn’t work.  All I can see is a chocolate cake. 

Mile 22:  Jenn and Ann.  I see them up ahead.  How much can I strip off?  I can take off everything except my running bra and my shoes, right?  I’m carrying too much weight.  I shouldn’t have eaten those jelly beans three nights ago.  Everything hurts.  Even my belly button hurts.

Mile 23: I can’t.  I can’t.  I can’t.  I can’t.  I can’t. 

Mile 24: Wait…Johanna.  Stop right there.  You have absolutely nothing to whine about.  There are individuals running all around you who’ve survived cancer or the loss of a loved one within the past 30 days.  There are runners with disabilities the likes of which you can never imagine.  There are runners who’ve given birth within the year or who are suffering mental illness.  Be humble.  Be grateful.  Keep running. 

Mile 25:  Oh my gosh, we’re coming up to Fenway and LOOK at those overenthusiastic, drunk Red Sox fans cheering for the runners outside the stadium!  I’ve never been more excited to see a pack of inebriated baseball fans. 

Mile 26:  I’m totally going to make it.  Holy crap, I’m going to finish the damn thing.  Right on Hereford.  Left on Boylston.  Finish line.  Here we go. 

Mile 26.2:  That. Was. Awesome.  Sushi.  The answer is definitely sushi.