Scripps Sunday #23- Boston Marathon Edition

 

Here’s a letter that I drafted in October explaining my intention for the Boston Marathon this spring and how you have been an integral part of it.

TL;DR (Too Long; Didn’t Read):

I decided that the 2026 Boston Marathon would be about joy—and I’m leaning into that by running dressed as Joy from Inside Out. Over the 26 weeks leading up to the race, I’ve been turning joy into a little practice of its own, writing weekly letters to people who have sparked it in my life. This letter is my way of bouncing a little of the joy, light, and gratitude you bring into my life right back to you.

Long Version:

I was on a flight home from a hike with friends in California on October 15th when I suddenly knew exactly what the 2026 Boston Marathon would be about for me. I decided I was going to ham it up again and dress up—because life is far too short not to be a little silly and ridiculous.

In 2013, I ran Boston dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. This time around, I’ve decided to dress up as Joy from Inside Out. Not only does Joy’s blue hair and yellow dress perfectly match the Boston Marathon’s signature colors, but she embodies exactly what I want to hold onto and celebrate as I run: joy.

I’ve often used races as a way to honor the people I love—assigning each mile to a different friend or family member, turning the race itself into a kind of prayer. For Boston 2026, I knew I wanted to do the same. This time, though, the guiding question was simple: Who has sparked deep, unexpected joy in my life?

Who makes me think of Snoopy doing a happy dance—or Joy herself, leaping with arms outstretched?

I started scribbling names on the back of an airplane napkin. And then I realized: October 20th—just a few days later—would mark exactly 26 weeks until Marathon Monday. Perfect. I decided that each week leading up to the race, I would meditate on joy and write a letter to people who have been “joy incarnate” in my life.

On my Gmail signature, I have a quote from Karl Barth: “Joy is the simplest form of gratitude.” As I’ve trained for the Boston Marathon, I’ve been trying to practice that kind of joy- without bypassing pain. The world is heavy. There is real heartbreak, real ache that needs naming, and I don’t want to rush past it. And still, for these 26 weeks, in the words of Ross Gay, I’ve been “running the sponge of gratitude over every little thing,” because joy also deserves our attention. It’s become a weekly discipline: to name, savor, and celebrate the joy that so many people — including you — have brought into my life.

So, thank you. Thank you for being someone who makes my heart sing and for being a gift of joy through the years.

Attached is the letter I wrote during these past 26 weeks of meditating on joy—about you.

With deep gratitude and joy,

Mom 

p.s. And this is pure joy as you know: 

 About Time | The Secret Formula for Happiness

and here is your letter....

Joy

noun: a source or cause of delight

 

April 13, 2026  (Happy 13th!!) 

1 week until Boston!

Dear Anna,

As I shared, when I began thinking about my intentions for Boston, my guiding question was simple: Who are the people who make me think of Snoopy doing a happy dance—or Joy herself, leaping with arms outstretched?

And of course, you come to mind.  You, Taylor, and Dad are the last folks I’m writing to with these letters because it’s fun to save the best for last.

As I write, I just finished running in the Ancient Lakes Trail Run dressed as a banana. Life is too short to not make it a little fun. And thus, why not match a dumb banana costume with a tutu?  Anyway, as I ran with Elizabeth through the beautiful canyons here, one of my first thoughts was how much I knew you would have loved the run. It reminded me of being with you in so many places where we have been able to soak it all up together. As I think about last summer with times with you on the trails in particular, I still pinch myself at the beauty we got to experience together, and I can’t wait to explore more with you in Alaska this summer.

One memory that comes to mind is the time we ran to Mt. Erie after Christmas. On the way back, you played “Meet Me in the Woods” and “Catalogue of Unabashed Gratitude,” and it felt like time stood still. It was one of those moments when I thought we had tapped into the secret of happiness, like in About Time—so present, so grateful, we thought we might burst.

And then, let me not fail to mention the beautiful time this summer when we locked eyes on Thornton Peak. It was one of the holiest experiences I’ve had—caught in your gaze and encountering the love of God so deeply through you. Behold the one beholding you and smiling!

In the passage where Jesus meets two disciples on the road to Emmaus, it says their hearts were “burning” within them as they walked with him. That feels like one way to describe what you shared about your encounter with the Divine this past week: “Hey! Did you know there is light everywhere?”

You are growing and learning so much in this season, and I am so excited for you to continue to lean in and experience the Light.

You are one of the most obvious signs of God’s goodness in my life and I am so very very grateful that God gave me you. I love you to the moon and back and am doing a happy dance just thinking about you.

With so much gratitude and joy,

Mom

p.s. (which I am writing on Sunday 4/19) 

Anna, I cannot tell you how much joy I have had in being with you this weekend.  The hug you gave me at the airport was one of the top 5 of all time (and I might have just wet my pants a little because you squeezed me so tight!). I am absolutely the luckiest.  Thank you for being here and delighting in this wonderful pilgrimage of joy. In honor of you and your whimsy and delight, hear these words from the wonderful Kate Bowler: 

"This is the pearl of wisdom I gleaned after thinking about and researching joy for so long in my new book, Joyful Anyway. Theologian Karl Barth once said it like this, joy is both a gift and a task. It’s something that mysteriously pops up out of nowhere. When we least expect it, like grace. And it’s something we have to put ourselves in the way of because we can’t always be happy, but we can be joyful anyway. 

So my dears, here is a blessing for you. 

May you have permission to be odd in a world that prefers the shiny and put together. 

May you find one friend who understands your particular blend of weirdness. 

And when the news feels unbearable, 

may silliness and delight fill you like oxygen to your lungs. 

And when you get confused, 

may you remember, 

play is not frivolous, 

it is how some of us survive." 

 

I wrote this after listening to your voice memo you so generously shared with us: 

Standing at the edge of the river,
the veil was lifted,
and light poured in—
and over,
and all around—
shimmering,
radiant,
overflowing.

Laughing and dancing,
playing in this universe,
awake to this life
loving me,
alive to the nearness
of God.
Open to the mystery,
filled with the joy
that is me.

Openhearted,
light,
joy,
delight—
so much wonder
at this life,
and delight in
knowing,
connecting,
holding,
growing
with me.

There is wholeness

There is a deep well

There is light everywhere.

And I am
soft,
grounded,
tender—
and
overflowing
with
joy.