This post is (basically) sponsored by DC's Parks and Rec Dept.

I was running down on the Mall this past week. Let me tell you about it.

It is such a great environment for that type of activity, and other types of activities as well. Running is nice there (specifically) because you can run on a path around the Mall, and not have to worry about too many stop lights (which are the life blood of DC).  And also, you can sight see while you move those legs of yours! 

While running on the Mall, (“the best place to run,” testifies every DC runner ever), you may be asked to join a random softball game because you are a “girl.” When this happens, be sure to be flattered because you must look athletic due to the fact that you are running, which is a major reason why they are asking you. Surely, it isn’t just because you are a girl. So feel “athletic” while assuring this random softball player that your presence on the team would surely doom them and when he still begs, tell him that you have dinner at 8 that you need to be back for. You may want to include a comment about how you really need a shower before that dinner, because obviously you are sweaty.  You may or may not want to take that comment back as soon as you say it. But work it. And make sure to run back on the other side of the Washington Monument just in case they never did find another girl and they are just sitting there looking dejected (aka avoid guilt at all costs!)

Take a moment and a slight detour to visit the 857 desks lined up on the other side of the Washington Monument. Here you may be shocked to learn that this is the number of kids that drops out of high school every hour of the school day. You may want to use one these desks that represents a kid who needs a little extra help for your own stretching purposes. This is fine, and assures that you won't be sore on the morrow. Don’t forget to take a picture (and post it to Instagram!) to raise awareness alongside the person who put each of the 857 desks in straight lines. That hard work should be recognized, and those kids should be back in school. Sidenote: don’t be surprised if your instagramming of that photo leads to a national revolution. That sometimes happens (I mean, it hasn’t yet, but it could.)

            While running (let’s be honest, at this point you may be just wogging due to impending heat stroke and dehydration due to minor perspiration (read: major sweating)) make sure to note the children catching fireflies in the grass. If you do notice this, it will warm your heart and make you feel better about the imaginations of America’s youth. When you see a father and daughter blazing a trail through the grass just to marvel at the fireflies, you’ll also feel better about the families of America. Make a mental note to walk on the grass with your children. And if not with your children, then do it on your own. Leave the path and marvel at those fireflies.

            On your way back home, don’t forget to stop and take in the beauty that is the Mall.  Run up those steps at the Lincoln and look for a moment, while standing a safe distance away from everybody else there in case you smell like sweat (me? Never!) Look at those monuments and remember that being an American is the best you can be. Take a second and become pumped that you live in (quote unquote) "The District" and you can recreate these wonderful running moments again tomorrow after your shirt has dried out. (Have I been mentioning the sweating thing too much? I don’t believe you can ever talk about sweat too much.)

Lastly, note that your life isn’t really fair, because you get to live here for a minute. Be glad that yes, while you have resigned yourself to moving back to Provo in the fall, at least you’ve got a minute in DC again tomorrow.

So, to recap: running on a path + sight seeing while you run = Running on the Mall = A wholly positive experience. DC’s Tourism Bureau is actually sponsoring this post! You’re welcome for the publicity Parks and Recreation department!

Anyways, that ladies and gents, is how you spend a night running on the Mall.

A Thousand Splendid Suns

I have never really sat and thought about how great America is.

I was so excited to get back to the United States after Israel, but not because I was so grateful for the freedoms I enjoyed at home or anything. It was just because I missed it.

image via

"And the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaging mistake, and its accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion. And whenever those twin poisonous flowers began to sprout in the parched land of that field, Mariam uprooted them." 

 -Khaled Hosseini

This past week I finished A Thousand Splendid Suns,

a book centered on the fall of the beautiful Kabul and the people within it.

As the war began within the city and within the home of one family I cried inside. 

But when the Taliban took over I screamed inside. I yelled at them. I cried for those women and I sobbed for those children. It was so difficult to read of a mother being beaten by the Taliban on a daily basis because her husband refused to accompany her outside of the home.

What kind of a society could allow that? 

What kind of a world exists where an entire nation of people could be oppressed? 

What world is this that sees men, women and children suffering and hasn't stopped it?

I can’t describe to you how sorry I am that I haven’t been more grateful 

for the life and freedoms I enjoy in this land.

But I am so thankful that I now can say that I truly do understand the greatness

 of this nation that I call home.

How hard it would be to live in a city

 where you risk losing your hand because it is better than dying of hunger.

 where breaking society's norms results in a loss of everything you know.

 where a woman can’t remember the last time her body was whole and healed.

  where a woman's face cannot be seen outside the home.

 where a woman has no opportunities to miss 

because there are no opportunities for anything other than submission.

How hard it is to live with no rights, to regret being born a girl, to regret birthing a girl.

I am happy to be a woman in a place where I hold my own power and

 I weep for women in places where they do not.