Frenchie Runner

Run Fast, Write Slow

I’m not prone to crying. At the Boston Marathon this year, I came very close to tears — twice.

Another spring, another Boston Marathon, my fifth in six years. The same obsessive anxieties over the minutia

Running is more than a sport to me. It’s a way of life as engrained in my daily routine as

I’m married to a non-runner. He is entitled to his own opinion and happens to be a damn good writer.

It was sunny when I finished the Boston Marathon. I stopped my watch and walked, congratulating runners around

I’m just a runner. I don’t know what it feels like to be a mother who loses a son, a

In running, as in life, I tend to focus on what I failed to do, or didn’t do

This year I trained almost exclusively on my own for the Boston Marathon: no club run, no competitive races and

I met Angus ten years ago, when we worked together in the London office of our company. Rain or shine

I’ve been trying for months to write about how not being able to run feels. In vain. I had a

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