I like their lady horse swagger,/ after winning. Ears up, girls, ears up!/ But mainly, let’s be honest, I like/ that they’re ladies. As if this big/ dangerous animal is also a part of me,/ that somewhere inside the/ delicate/ skin of my body, there pumps/ an 8-pound female horse heart,/ giant with power, heavy with/ blood.

Ada Limon

I am from Louisville, Kentucky. Horses are a big deal in Kentucky. They are Kentucky poetry. Let me explain. When you see a mother horse standing beside her foal in the spring on a farm outside Lexington. That is poetry. When you see a white picket fence and barn with horses milling around in the bluegrass. That is poetry. (Yes. The grass is blue. That is poetry.) When you hear John Prine’s Paradise. That is poetry. When the call to the post is sounded at the track. That is poetry. When you pick up a fiddle and learn to play, “Go Tell Aunt Rhody.” That is poetry. When you catch bluegill at Nolin Lake. That is poetry. When water, corn mash, and time make bourbon. That is poetry. When the moonbow shines over Cumberland Falls. That is poetry. The Ohio River is poetry. 

Lady horse swagger is poetry. We don’t have to be a lady horse to understand lady horse swagger. We have to remember. We must remember we are giant with power and heavy with blood. We must remember we are genius machines that know our strength. We must remember we were built for all it all — running and resting. We must remember there is time for it all — running and resting. We must remember beauty and joy — running and resting. We must hold it all close to our big eight-pound hearts. We must run our race and move about ears up with lady horse swagger.

What I Keep Learning

The Gift of Running

This week, I participated in my 11th Kentucky Derby Festival mini-Marathon. The mini is 13.2 miles — the distance of the standard half marathon. The last few minis have been a real challenge. My first mini was twentyish years ago. Remembering what made me start running helps me put on my shoes and get out the door. My pace has slowed, but my motivation still comes from the same place. Experiencing my world. Clearing my mind. Breathing. Building strength. Connecting with others. It all boils down to lady horse swagger. 

I woke up before dawn on race day. We made our way to the start. I started the race with a friend who has walked with me for many years. Fast runners passed us the first mile or so. We kept walking. My feet hurt. We kept walking. My feet still hurt. We kept walking. We decided to turn early (at about the 5k mark—meaning we would only complete about 6 of the 13 miles). 

I thought about lady horse swagger.

Is simply starting the race at all lady horse swagger? Is knowing our limitations lady horse swagger? Is knowing our pace lady horse swagger? Is running our race lady horse swagger? Is looking ahead—saying next year I will complete the whole race at my personal best time — lady horse swagger? Muscle memory and saying yes are lady horse swagger. Strength and self knowledge are lady horse swagger. Starting and finishing are lady horse swagger. 

An Earth Day Pledge

A few years ago, I came across Thich That Hanh’s “10 Love Letters to Earth.” The last line of the 10th letter reads, “Yes, Mother, you can count on us.” At this time when our planet is in crisis, we must count on one another. We can be counted on to celebrate our interdependence. We can be counted on to remember our past, cherish our present, and protect our future. We can be counted on to create, solve, repair, and heal. We can be counted on to pay attention and experience awe. We can be counted on to use our lady horse swagger to focus, gather, reflect, and act.

After Sacred Water

I belong to no one. I am so useful in many ways./ I quench thirst for the animals, the plants, the trees, and human beings. — Kinsale Drake

I grew up on the Ohio River. I think about what I learned from it, about the fossil bed on its floor that tells an ancient story, about the role the River plays in generations of my family, and about what it means to leave the River and know it is how I locate home. I think about its mile wide hug. 

We are all — people and nature — both mighty and fragile. Made of the stuff of fire and earth and water. I feel that when I am home on the River. Green and brown and rock and flow. Calliope and barge and bridge and stillness. I understand the meaning of sacred water. There is memory. There is power. There is peace. There is the I am and the not yet.

Paying Attention

— How to Triumph Like a Girl, by Ada Limón

— An On Being conversation with Ada Limón — “To Be Made Whole”

— Ten Love Letters to the Earth — Thich Nhat Hanh

— “The save of the century” — Sergei Bobrovsky in April 23 Stanley Cup playoff win over the Tampa Bay Lightening 

— The Gift of Running