Just a few months ago, it was hard to think of a time when I wouldn’t be going to school — and wouldn’t have a two-hour practice built into my day. But that time has come. I’ve graduated from college, landed my dream job at Harper Collins publishers in New York City, managed to find an apartment, and have even found time during the week to exercise.

As soon as I arrived, I dialed up every squash player I knew in New York City, and have been making the rounds of the clubs, hopping into singles and doubles games from Long Island City to Midtown. But what I didn’t expect: a squash friend asked me to join the board of the MSRA, or Metropolitan Squash  Racquets Association, which runs New York Squash.

After attending the World Conference on Women and Sport in Sydney in May, I knew I had to remain active in squash. I wasn’t becoming a coach, or a teaching professional at a club, so I assumed that meant playing. I would help the women’s game by simply showing up (that’s no small feat as I have discovered in signing up for tournaments in which it was not clear up until the 11^th hour that there would even be a women’s draw).

Showing up is important. But when my friend Emily asked me to join the MSRA board, I heard echoes of Sydney in my ear. Speakers at the conference emphasized the great margins by which women were underrepresented on athletic boards, both at local and national levels. Women do better when other women are involved with leadership. Not only did I have to join — but I needed to play an active role.

I had images of what a board was and I expected lots of older people. In my mind, after all, boards were storied groups with lots of power and big purses. Boards are storied groups, and squash is about the most storied sport out there, but I was wrong on other scores.

The MSRA is, for the most part, comprised of young professionals (ages 22 to 40). After I attended my first meeting I also discovered — revelation — that many of the members were, like me, people who enjoyed the sport through college, and wanted to make sure the opportunity to play and be involved continued long after.

The MSRA runs cool events like the Grand Open, Hyder and Big Apple Opens, in addition to facilitating men’s and women’s singles leagues and a mixed doubles league. I have been tapped to help grow doubles in the city, as well as be active in the women’s squash movement. Sure, I have my work cut out for me, but I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my spare time.

Need a nudge? Here’s why to join an athletic board:

1. Boards are not just for older people. The best boards remain vital by including young voices.

2. Its a great way to meet people who are involved in a sport you are passionate about. And, yes, participating on a board gives you an instant circle of people to socialize and play your sport with when you move to a new city. Great way to meet people.

3. Think of board membership as public service — but also as a free leadership education course.

4. Contrary to conventional wisdom, board meetings are not boring. They are places for lively discussion, debate, and — yes — even sharp disagreement.

5. A board also gives you an outlet to be active outside of work. It’s important to have something that isn’t part of your working life that provides identity and meaningful engagement. No pay check involved.

I had the thrilling opportunity to watch the World Cup Final at the Soweto Fan Park in South Africa on Monday. Yes, the vuvuzela howls are deafening, but I still cheered alongside 10,000 South Africans as Spain kicked in the winning goal against the Netherlands (my friend Robin from San Fransisco was rooting for the Netherlands — see photo).

It is not that I – or my South African hosts – are huge Spanish soccer fans. In fact, most of the South Africans I spoke with had little knowledge of the individual teams, but agreed that World Cup fever had swept their country. Everywhere you look, soccer images line the streets. From soda cans to billboards, you cannot escape FIFA’s domination.

Certainly, the World Cup has brought together a divided nation and given the rest of the globe a fresh lens through which to view what I am finding to be an inspiring country.

But one thing has struck me: This lens – and FIFA in particular — has filtered out and excluded (sometimes ridiculously so) the female athletic experience. This was an opportunity for all athletes to celebrate this sport. But we only saw half the picture.

Nowhere in the city do you see ads with little girls playing soccer and nowhere do you hear the voice of a female commentator. Does FIFA mean to suggest that the World Cup only inspires little boys? Are the sports networks telling us no women are qualified to provide commentary or reportage?

And in what would be a natural plug for it’s next major event, FIFA was stunningly silent about the fact that next year’s Women’s World Cup is in Germany. Disturbingly, the only fact my South African and American peers could recall about the Women’s World Cup when I asked them was “that one time that women took her shirt off.”

Do we need a woman in a sports bra – Brandi Chastain – to bring attention to women’s soccer? Without engaging yet another debate on sexy athletes, let’s instead pose the fair question: Is the World Cup truly a celebration of the beautiful game – or just the celebration of men who play it?

Rachael roots for Spain while her friend Robin (obviously) pulls for Netherlands

World Cup crowds on Monday night

The frenzy of conference switching (Colorado, Utah, Nebraska plus others at least thinking about it), has caused a stir for one reason: Colleges fret that if the future really is about a few megaconferences that some schools will be big winners (measured in TV dollars and bowl berths) and others will be big losers (also-rans with expensive football programs that get little attention).

The college hosting of football is really higher education’s form of gambling. Most DI football teams in the country lose money. The question for AD’s: Can your college have a team that actually brings in cash?

When colleges get anxious, however, we don’t hear about this. We hear instead about how Title IX makes it hard for them to “compete.” Title IX, in this instance and others, is a favorite target of blame. But here’s a reality check: Title IX may be the only thing enforcing a semblance of sanity.

Title IX is carrying the burden of challenging an out-of-whack athletic culture. Title IX is all that reminds or enforces the broader belief that college sports are — indeed — played at colleges and must be rooted in a sense of equity and values other than cash and winning.

Consider that there is no law demanding equal opportunity – or spending – for athletes and non-athletes. (A new Knight Commission report shows that from 2005 to 2008 that median spending per athlete increased by 38 percent over that time to $84,446 while median spending per student increased just 20 percent to $13,349.) Report link here.

Title IX is not the “problem” but the levy against the flood. (Read a good Marquette faculty law blogpost here).

The real problems? Try these:

1. The NFL uses colleges as a farm team. With the fluid movement of coaches between the NFL and college ranks, we are ensured that colleges will seek to install NFL-like “systems,” build reputations based on their connections with professional teams (also useful in recruiting), and create programs that operate according to standards that are friendly to broadcasters.
2. Donors are allowed to buy (or partially buy, leaving colleges to cover the rest) expensive athletes-only facilities and enhancements aimed at winning national titles and recognition (see point 1). For examples, see the University of Oregon’s “Jock Box” or T. Boone Pickens Stadium (and influence) at Oklahoma.
3. Excessive focus on athletic school profiles in college marketing and the perception that kids are choosing colleges based on sports (as fans). The media attention given top football programs (and to a lesser extent basketball programs), eclipses the recognition that these big sports schools might get for their research successes.
4. Football conference alliances may not reflect broader university needs or values. Just because football teams match up or fit well in a particular conference does not mean that this high profile tie – which requires university resources to maintain – serves the needs of academic departments or research interests. And then there is the reality that football players may not accurately reflect the student body — either academically or in terms of behavior — creating two sets of standards, one for real students and one for students whose main job is to entertain everybody else on Saturdays.

Photo is for illustration only. Credit: Walla Walla University

By Rachael Goldenberg

Who would have thought that one call — way back on opening day — could determine the outcome of a collegiate softball season?

Wednesday, March 17 was the start of the season for Wellesley College’s Varsity Softball team. We had a strong team, and my teammates and I were excited, panting out our nerves as we finished our warm-up sprints. I could feel the brisk air enter my lungs as I tried to catch my breath. Our first double header was at DIII nationally-ranked Brandeis University and we were ready.

In game one we hit our way to a terrific 9-7 victory. In the second game, we were battling back and forth. At the end of five innings Brandeis led 6-3.  As we slipped on our batting gloves to launch our comeback, the umpire raised his hands. He was calling the game for darkness.

It was only after I dropped my helmet and muttered “good game” that I noticed our surroundings: We were the only ones in the dark.  Stadium lighting bathed the entire Brandeis athletics complex in bright light — except for the patch of darkness which enveloped the women’s softball diamond. The adjacent baseball field, abandoned an hour earlier by the men’s team, was completely illuminated along with the deserted track.

Clearly, someone had decided that although there were numerous lighting poles installed and electrical power sources run in order to install the men’s lights, it was not worth including fixtures and bulbs facing the women’s softball field.

Now, three months later, I enter my coach’s office to discuss why our season ended three weeks early. Turns out, that opening day 5-inning loss against Brandeis eliminated our chance at a regional bid. One college official’s call that female athletics did not deserve lighting (but the men did) had the ripple effect of ending my collegiate season early.

Softball is a sport decided by calls — the coaches’, the umpires’, the players’. As the sun went down at 6:56 pm on March 17, my teammates and I experienced the fallout of a college official’s call that the softball field didn’t need lights. I can’t help but see this as a deeper failure.

Discriminatory decisions have far reaching effects. This is not just about prematurely ending a softball game (and season), but perpetuating the belief that females don’t deserve — or won’t notice or don’t really need — equal facilities. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine the reverse happening: A men’s college baseball game called for darkness while a fully-lit women’s softball field right beside it glowed, unused?

By Laura Pappano

As long as we’re sharing old softball photos, here’s one of me playing at Yale in 1985.

Q: What does it tell you?

A: Probably not much (except that I’m a righty and played 1B).

The firestorm over the photo of Elena Kagan playing softball may – or may not – have been part of a not-so-secret code wink-wink to suggest that Kagan is gay and add a spicy subtext to the Supreme Court nomination process.

Kagan’s photo, released by the University of Chicago Law School, then, reveals what, exactly? That she’s a righty, too?

The fact is that softball is a popular recreational sport. Last week, Roll Call reported that nearly 300 teams had already registered among the Senate, House, and Congressional softball leagues. New York’s Central Park is also softball-saturated with leagues from the ultra-competitive magazine publishers to the official N.Y.C. Financial Services Softball League.

In fact, who hasn’t played softball? (And been photographed doing it?)

Whether or not Elena Kagan is gay or tuned to gay/civil rights issues cannot be parsed from a photo of her at the plate (though Pat Griffin takes a thoughtful swing at it). If Kagan is gay and wants to share, terrific. It would add to the lived experience of the Supreme Court justices. If she’s not, that’s OK, too.

What bothers me about all the hullaballoo, is that it’s a reminder of the pressure on women to — still – conform to narrow social and gender expectations.  Sure, softball is a popular sport among gay women. (Historically, in a time of rigid roles and repressed sexual identities, gay women found community and support on the softball diamond — and still do.)

But just because an unmarried woman who has risen to the top of her field plays softball, must this be considered “evidence” that she is lesbian?  Good at sports? Single? She must be gay! When I first saw the photos, I thought, Great! Maybe a Supreme Court Justice who cares about women’s sports! Yipee! Most troubling, however, is the possibility that the photo might have been used as a way to signal that or raise questions about Kagan’s sexual orientation in hopes of derailing her nomination.

In other words, this has become just another squeeze play at the plate in which female athletes — or women who merely play competently in a recreational game — must try to slide under the tag. The label is there and ready to be applied: Girly or Gay?

What does it say to the rest of us when someone as smart and accomplished as Kagan is still expected to “prove” her femininity?

By Megan Wood

When umpire Perry Barber steps behind the catcher, fans often do a double-take when they glimpse the ponytail resting on the back of her uniform. Female umpires are not only rare, but practically unheard of.  Barber is one of only eight women to umpire professional baseball, officiating around 200 games a year for local, regional, state and professional leagues including spring training for Major League Baseball. After umpiring for over 25 years, Barber tells why there so few female umpires — and why calling balls and strikes is often viewed as something only a man can do.

FGN: When did you discover you wanted to be a professional baseball umpire?

PB: My early fascination with baseball had nothing to do with athletic competition and everything to do with being a trivia nut and former Jeopardy! champion who wanted to educate herself about baseball as a subject, not a game or sport. I needed to hold my own in trivia contests a friend constantly challenged me to.

I started going to as many Mets games as I could. At Veteran’s Stadium in Philadelphia this older couple sort of adopted me. They would let me sit with them right behind the Phillies’ dugout and take me back to the first aid room after games to meet their friends who worked there. The first aid room was adjacent to the umpires’ dressing room.

One time National League umpire #11 Ed Montague stopped in to say hello. The moment I shook his hand, it was like being struck by lightning, and I don’t mean in a romantic way, but something about him affected me so profoundly I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Until I met him, I was like everybody else and didn’t give much thought to the umpires as anything other than peripheral characters on the field, but that changed in an instant.

One night, I found a newspaper ad on my pillow that my mom had left for me. “Indio needs umpires,” it read. My first reaction was definitely not “Wow, I’m signing up tomorrow,” but confusion. When I asked why she had left it, she said, “Well, I thought it was something you’d like to do.”

So began my umpiring “career.” People were often hostile to me, but I attributed their vitriol more to the fact that I was untrained, meaning incompetent, than that I was female.

I never thought about the fact that I was a woman and women didn’t do that, or about the political implications inherent in my becoming an umpire, or anything except this is how I can stay connected to baseball and my mom… I loved baseball, and umpiring was my way of expressing that love and turning what had been a mostly cerebral attachment to the game into something tangible. If it hadn’t been for my mother, who knows if I ever would have found my way into a chest protector and shin guards. She made the connection I hadn’t; she connected the dots and saw something in me I didn’t see in myself.

FGN: Why did you decide to officiate baseball instead of softball?

PB: I didn’t “decide”; once my mom suggested that I umpire Little League baseball and I started doing it, softball just wasn’t an option. I’m glad softball exists as an alternative to baseball — even though from my perspective it also siphons off a lot of young girls who might otherwise be integrating baseball more fully — but I have no quarrel with any athletic endeavor that brings girls and women together to compete and play. I just don’t get the same charge from umpiring softball as I do from baseball. I’m baseball trained, and it’s my passion, so that’s what I stick to most of the time.

FGN: What is it like to step on a baseball field and umpire a men’s game?

PB: It’s a rush, an adrenaline charge, an affirmation of life and living and all things positive and hopeful. Just being out there on a ball field with other people running around sweating and frolicking about, it’s all so wonderful to me, even thirty years into my career. I think when I was a neophyte and unknown to many of the league and teams for which I umpired, the expectations others may have had of me might have been just a bit unrealistic (as in, they probably all thought I would stink!). But I never let anyone’s expectations deter me from pursuing my passion no matter what anyone said about how bad I was, or why was I doing this, or why didn’t I just get married and have children like a normal person and give up this umpiring thing. In other words, all the nay saying I heard (and still hear sometimes) about why I (or women in general) shouldn’t be out there with the guys. My interactions with coaches are always respectful on my part, although I can’t speak for them; I’m sure there are a few who have regarded my presence as in intrusion rather than as an asset, but that’s their problem, not mine.

FGN: How do fellow umpires and players treat you during the game? Do you feel more pressure because you are a woman umpiring men?

PB: I like to think I’m treated as an equal by my partners and fellow umpires, and for the most part, at this stage of my career, I honestly believe I am. There are probably some umpires (and players too) still opposed to sharing the field or the dressing room with a woman, but my attitude is always that I’ll be able to change their minds once they work with me and see I’m as capable as any other umpire. I don’t feel much pressure about being a woman or “representing” other women, although I may have when I first started.

FGN: Why are there so few women in umpiring? How can we encourage more?

PB: Women are not initiated into the baseball culture when they’re in utero the way boys are in this country. That’s one reason. Plus the few girls who do play baseball are often steered towards softball as an alternative. The same problem applies to umpiring baseball; there is no organized, sustained effort to recruit, train, and retain the services of women umpires.

Change will come as the result of a multi-pronged approach, including presenting umpiring as a career or a vocational option to girls and women.

For instance, we should be making a real, concerted, committed, and sustained effort to recruit, train and assign young girls to little leagues, youth leagues, high school and college games so they become a part of the culture when they’re young, the same way the boys do; and getting a lot of women to attend umpire school en masse so at least two or three get jobs in pro ball at the same time instead of just one at a time (the way it’s always happened up until now). That way there will be a support system for them, an infrastructure of sorority and women encouraging women, providing counsel and mentoring to each other.

The Tippett Sisters: Narelle and Natarsha

By Sarah Odell

This weekend, the Under 25 Doubles Championship takes place in Greenwich, Connecticut. Just yesterday I learned that there may not be enough women to make a draw. I have seen first hand the trend that US Squash is worried about: the rapid rate at which we are losing female players.

This week, I connected with two terrific women who happen to be amazing squash players. Former WISPA (Women’s International Squash Association) players turned teaching pros and turned moms. And yes, girls, they still play squash. Take note. Be inspired. Narelle Tippett Krizek and Natarsha Tippett McElhinny are here to prod you to pick up the sport they love.

FGN: You both are amazing squash players. How did you get started?

Narelle Tippett Krizek: Mum and Dad ran a squash club and we were little rats, hanging on the courts whenever possible.  Due to us being 16 months apart we were perfect play mates and always had someone to hit with.  We also played field hockey together on junior teams and representative teams.  Tarsh was a forward and I was her center half.

Natarsha Tippett McElhinny: First I have to say that when we played field hockey, Narelle used to pass me the ball, because she was my center half. I would then score. Now when we play doubles, it’s the other way around! Our dad was our first coach. He got us started and then we went off to the Australian Institute of Sports, and were working with the best professional coaches in the world.

FGN: You both were on the WISPA tour. How long did you play on the tour? Why did you retire?

NTK: I was on the tour as soon as I graduated high school.  I was on it for 5 years, reaching my highest ranking of 23 in the world.  I knew that it was a stretch to achieve top 3 and wanted to make some money so I wasn’t needing my dad’s support for my whole life.  So I took Tarsh’s teaching position in Philadelphia at Merion Cricket Club.  Playing on the tour was such a fantastic experience though, traveling around the world with my sister and friends, meeting so many different people from different countries.  It opened my eyes to a whole different way of life from Australia.

NTM:I played on the tour for three or four years, reaching my highest ranking of nineteen. That’s right, I was higher than Narelle! I’ve never lost to her and I never will. I’m never playing her again. I decided to make the move to the states when I was talking with another Australian guy when I was playing in tournament in Greenwich. I found out there was a lot more money in coaching in America, and I got the coaching job at Merion. When I left Merion to get married, I told them I had someone to fill my position who looked like me and sounded like me. Narelle took my car, my apartment and all of my white outfits!

FGN: Narelle, what was your goal with starting the WDSA (the professional Women’s Doubles Squash Association)?

NTK: I knew there was a need for women to be recognized in doubles.  We had sanctioned tournaments but not for prize money.  After seeing the ISDA men come to our clubs, I knew there was a way for the women to be recognized as well. There is also a lack of collegiate girls continuing to play squash after they graduate college.  I thought by growing the women’s doubles game this would help encourage them to play the sport as they would be social with their friends but keep them competing in a game they had once loved.

FGN: Tarsh, you’ve played doubles with your sister as your partner. What is that like? Does somebody have to keep the peace?

NTM: No, (laughs), nobody has to keep the peace. I don’t know if it’s because we’re so close in age, but we pretty much know what the other one is thinking. We know how to get the other one fired up; Narelle can give me a game plan, and I can kick her butt. I love playing with my sister because she’s so dang good.

FGN: US Squash is having a lot of trouble retaining female players after they graduate from college. What would you say to girls graduating this year to encourage them to keep playing?

NTK: Doubles is a fun way to stay fit and stay in a sport where it’s competitive but you are not stuck out there on your own chasing a little black ball around.  It is a totally new experience from anything you have been through as a junior or collegiate squash player.  Doubles will allow you to play squash for the rest of your life.  By supporting the women’s tour you are also helping to encourage young girls to play as juniors and be involved in a sport that we have all gotten so much out of.

FGN: Does the WDSA have any plans for events to encourage young women to pick up doubles?

NTK: The WDSA is working with US Squash to encourage young college players to play in the U25 doubles nationals. The WDSA is also working with a sponsor to host a doubles clinic in Sept/October in Greenwich where they get to play doubles, watch the WDSA play an exhibition followed by a manicure/pedicure afternoon.  It needs to be a fun, non-intimidating event to get them hooked.  Once we get them there, we can encourage them to play in the qualification of the pro events.

Narelle was the head squash professional at the Field Club of Greenwich, but has just relocated to Baltimore, Maryland with her husband Rob and their sons William and Blake. Natarsha lives in Las Vegas, Nevada where she is the head squash professional at the Sports Club Las Vegas. She lives there with her husband Jim and her boys Nicholas, Luke and Jake.

By Lindsay Rico

The game was over. Tied. But the excitement was just beginning. About 100 fans (and parents) leaned over steel barriers holding out soccer balls, jerseys, t-shirts—anything that would take ink —eager for the Boston Breakers and Philadelphia Independence players to plant their sharpies.

Leslie Osborne, Breakers co-captain, remembers being that young girl starting her soccer career at ten years old. Is she is ever too tired after a game to sign autographs? “No,” she says. “No matter how tired I am, I always remind myself of how much it would mean to me if I were that little girl to meet the players I look up to and get that autograph.”

Squeezed in among fans in “autograph alley,” I saw a girl clutching a Leslie Osborne poster with a smile on her face. Her dad struggled to find room on a child-sized Breakers shirt that was already covered in signatures. “How important is it that the Breakers come and meet their fans?” I asked. Dan, 44, didn’t pause: “My ten year old daughter is inspired by this. It’s great for her to come here and meet her role models.”

Further down autograph alley, I met Payton, 11, bundled up in soccer gear and ear muffs ( it was super cold!).  She turned to her friend and breathed, “Oh my god! It’s Kristine Lilly!”

Like guys who pride themselves on memorizing baseball stats, Payton rattled off the number of medals and world championships Lilly has won — along with the number of shots she’s taken so far this season.

“It’s really important!” she said when I asked her about post-game autographs. “Then we know that they really do care about their fans!” She turned away to chat up the players who were  signing her hoodie, offering them her take on their play that night, and calling out certain saves and shots for special praise.

Who says little girls with wash-off tattoos on their cheeks aren’t serious and committed fans?!

After spending 40 minutes in 40-degree wet New England weather surrounded mostly by young girls waiting to meet their sports heroes, three things struck me:

1)     Mainstream sports media — and even organizations — may be dismissive about young female fans. But these kids know more about the game than you think.

2)     These athletes actually do care about building relationships with fans (and it’s not just ticket sales or the ego rush of seeing a kid wearing your number).

3)     This is what professional sports should look like.

What is a real fan? What does that person look like? Is it the barrel-chested guy that begs to be the exclamation point at the end of “GO PATS!” when he and his buddies paint their tummies before kick off?

On this rainy and unpleasantly cold night at Harvard Stadium — when any sane person would have just gone home after the final whistle was blown — I saw something different. I saw big-time, serious, dedicated fans. This wasn’t about the guy with a beer-soaked voice and colorful wig, living vicariously through Tom Brady or Kobe Bryant.

It was about an 11-year-old girl loving how well her team played, about understanding the game, about appreciating the chance to talk about a sport she loves with players who share her passion. And yeah, as it is for every kid who goes to watch a sport they play,  it’s about her thinking, “I could be her someday.”

Never mind. That was message in Tuesday’s “Dear Colleague” letter issued by the federal Office for Civil Rights.

Never mind about that 2005 policy saying it was OK for colleges to meet a Title IX compliance prong gauging female interest in sports by sending out internet spam – er, I mean, surveys.

With the announcement staged at George Washington University’s basketball arena, VP Joe Biden gushed about all the female athletes related to him (including a granddaughter who plays on a boy’s team).

For some, this was a feel-good event. For others, it was a relief. And yep, for some cranks who feel that sports is always a zero sum game in which what’s good for women is bad for men, it was deeply disappointing. Sorry.

But before those of us committed to gender equity in sports get all celebration-y, let’s understand a few things. First, Title IX is now not now well-enforced and changing the rules doesn’t necessarily change the federal effort. Second, if this policy change does signal a shift in federal enforcement and, if as Biden suggested “Making Title IX as strong as possible is a no-brainer,” then we need to have another conversation.

That conversation – always dangerous to propose given fringe opposition to the law – must be about what Title IX does – and does not – accomplish and whether we should change it to more accurately reflect the goal of gender equity in sport.

Title IX, after all, does not demand equality. There are realities in high school and college sports today that did not exist in 1972. Some of these keep women’s teams from enjoying the same level of institutional support as men’s teams.

Is it, for example, fair to schedule women’s basketball games on, say Monday or Wednesday, and keep Friday and Saturday nights for men’s games?

Is it in the spirit of Title IX to promote men’s basketball as worthy of luxury boxes, multi-tiered seating levels, and club memberships – when the same school’s women’s team is general admission only?

(Good thing the announcement was at GW and not Georgetown, where an under-promoted women’s basketball team plays in the old gym while the men’s team is the focus of campus hoopla when the Hoyas play at the NBA-like Verizon Center; dollars spent per athlete on the men’s team is $93,737; on the women’s team, it’s $28,013).

Good move repealing that survey allowance, Obama administration. But this is just the first half.

That's me in the blue, heading up Heartbreak Hill

By Davi-Ellen Chabner

On this morning of the 2010 Boston Marathon, I‘m thinking about where I have been for the past nine years:  At the starting line in Hopkinton, wondering if I have it in me to run through pain and 26.2 miles to the finish line.

Why, one might ask, did I — at age 57, never a distance runner, not in the qualifying-time group, and on the heels of breast cancer treatment – decide in 2001 to run Boston?

In the summer of 2000, my daughter (who usually motivates me) had said, “Mom, you should start running again.”  I had run in the 1970s and 1980s, but stopped after knee problems and followed that up with 20 years of non-aerobic activity on the golf course.  So my husband and I entered a 5K race supporting “Friends Fighting Breast Cancer” for the Massachusetts General Hospital Cancer Center.

By some great fluke, I came in first in my age group (50 and up) and was handed a huge trophy! At that race, the woman organizing a Boston Marathon team for MGH approached me to join them. I was doubtful about accepting the challenge. I had never run 10 miles, let alone 26.2!

So, why did I say “yes?”  Looking back on that decision these are my thoughts:

– Growing up in the 50s and 60s when there were few opportunities for women to play sports. I had wanted to be “in training” and do something extraordinary athletically. I saw the marathon as a great challenge and that chance – even at 57.

– Of course, I also wanted to convince myself that I was still strong and healthy, even after surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer.  I thought about other women who had faced serious illness and wanted to prove something for them as well.

Bottom line: I was passionate about the challenge and not afraid to put myself through the grueling training, including daily runs in winter cold and wind, painful stretching, and cross-training. I read Jeff Galloway’s book on marathon training and believed him about being able to train ANYONE to run a marathon.  I believed in myself.

Once I started down that first momentous mile in Hopkinton and heard the crowd cheer, I knew it WAS all worth it — every minute, every hamstring and piriformis twinge, every screaming quadriceps and hip flexor. When the going got tough, I chanted my “YOU CAN DO IT” mantra and with conditioning, endurance and mental toughness on my side, I willed myself through the miles to the finish that first time in April 2001.

So why do it again – nine more times? (I did New York in 2002). Sure, I craved the excitement and euphoria that I knew would be there on race day.  But, what I really discovered was that the marathon had became a metaphor for my life. It was about meeting serious challenges to the body, mind, and spirit in both training and race – and deciding to summon the determination and courage to finish, and finish strong.

And because I received my number by raising money for the pediatric oncology unit at MGH, I was not just doing this for myself. I was helping kids fight cancer. That was a huge motivator.  Over the years, those brave kids became a part of my life and journey.  Knowing that they were battling more than 26.2 miles, cheering ME onward, and counting on me to finish, propelled me forward – and inspires me today.

Look for me. I’ll be cheering.

Davi-Ellen Chabner is an avid golfer, photographer, instructor of medical terminology and author of 3 books: The Language of Medicine, 9th edition, Medical Terminology: A Short Course, 5th edition, and Medical Language Instant Translator, 4th edition. She has run 9 Boston Marathons and 1 New York Marathon in the past 9 years. She mentors in an after-school program for inner city girls (Mellon Academy of Goodwill Industries) and is on the board of The Boston Conservatory and Friends of the MGH Cancer Center.  She is perhaps best known as grandmother to Bebe, Solomon, Ben, Gus, and Louisa Rose.

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