Friends who run, friends who last

Annyong my friends (that’s hello, in Korean). Sorry I’ve been a bit slow to blog, but well, let’s just say I’ve been living up my last days here in the land of Eden.


Tonight I spent the evening with my girlfriends, a group of girls I met through Asheville’s Team in Training –one of my top three experiences in my life, the other two being my wedding day to Whit (you can now say awwwwwwww) and then the oh-so-close second of my study abroad period in the South of France.

So I’ve always been a runner. Well, at least as long as I can remember. When I was a kid it was through Kick the Can, Pine Marr Drive-style tackle football or through the woods from White Rock to Christmas Tree Canyon, our given names to our own Terabithian woodlands.

I started organized running was I was about 16. I was probably just trying to run long enough to impress the boys. But for some reason, I kept on running through those hot cross-country practices to the railroad tracks and back to the streets of Oxford, Mississippi and past William Faulkner’s grave and that lovely Southern square I called home for four blessed years.
But it was last year when I decided to do something bigger, the Marathon. And it was through my Team in Training experience in Asheville that I met a group of girls that I know will be lifelong friends. The kind you can you can complain to, the kind you can say, “God I hate Old Navy maternity clothes” to turn around and receive a $75 Old Navy gift card just for maternity clothes from them and not feel bad about it. The kind of girls who make you laugh, make you spill your wine, the kind who use the same fingers to lick that same plate of leftover chocolate. And the kind who make you thank your lucky stars that there are real women out there just like you.
Not only did we run together. But we laugh together. Laugh a lot. Tell funny stories about husbands, boyfriends and wanna-be boyfriends and lovers.

They’re the kind of girls you know you’re going to miss when you travel 15 hours across the world. But they’re also the kind who will someday take you back with open arms, saying Annyong my friend, welcome home.



Not in Korea yet,
Lindsay