Learning How to Rest (/the marathon that likely won't come to be)

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.” – Proverbs 16:9 (NIV).

I do not consider myself a "runner," but I have taken up moderate distance running in recent years (mainly for exercise/to combat perimenopausal weight and metabolic changes), and to run in solidarity with my kids, who have participated in the cross-country team for their elementary school and local Six Rivers Club races. I completed two half-marathons in my twenties (despite a rigorous residency schedule), and two more in the past two years in under two hours apiece, which I consider very respectable (I definitely am a slow-and-steady runner, not a sprinter, but warm up after a few miles and feel the best at distance between 6-9 miles), although I don't really enjoy running all that much (podcasts and audiobooks really help me pass the time-- I don't know how people can just run in silence/with their thoughts alone!).

I made some and blogged about some 2026 "loose aspirations" at the beginning of this year, which included some health goals, including "training for" [but not as far as "completing" because that felt too lofty a goal] a marathon, given that my "retirement" from on-call/birth work freed up quite a lot of hours each week when the kids are in school. I wrote how my strong upholder tendency in Gretchen Rubin's Four Tendencies framework (in that once I plan to do something, I follow through almost always without fail) makes me reluctant to plan/reach too high for things.

That being said, starting in the spring, I have been able to carve out plenty of time for exercise, including swimming and running at least one (sometimes two) days per week, and even pushing the  distances regularly into the 10-12 mile range per run.  Earlier this year, I reluctantly (and after much thought!) went ahead and signed up (/paid) for the October Humboldt Redwoods Marathon, a nice course among the redwoods on which I completed a half- in 2024 and felt good during and after the race,  and have been loosely following a "four month" training program for marathon running for beginners, working toward running 26.2 consecutive miles. (If Brittany the couch potato can run a Marathon [I did watch the funny 2019 movie "Brittany Runs a Marathon" earlier this year], I feel like a healthy, pretty athletic woman in her 40s should be able to run one in my lifetime too!)

While this summer travel was not super conducive to continuing long-run training, I did run around our cruise ship deck on multiple mornings, logging 6-7 miles (plus miles of walking in European Cities) and did a few runs with friends (Jenna, and young Olivia) since we've been back. While I have been bothered by some post-run knee and shin pain, I've never truly been "injured" from running or training.

Until last week.

On a long run to Eureka, back and around the Arcata marsh, I logged seventeen miles, longer than any previous distance I've run, but short of the maximum distance long-run of 20 miles suggested a month before the date of the marathon. I tried out a new running vest with water I had bought, and was even armed with sour patch gummies for fuel (which I’d never eaten while running, and definitely helped my energy level!).  I had been having some slight left hip pain in the week prior, but didn't think too much of it because, as above, I haven't been injured before, and running long distances can make various body parts temporarily ache! 

Nevertheless, starting even during the run and worse the day after the long run/persistent since then has been severe and sharp left hip and groin pain (worse with flexion and weight-bearing or standing on that side), bothering me when walking, lifting my leg to put pants, socks, or shoes on, and getting in and out of vehicles. I am not exactly sure what it is, but have considered some medical diagnoses to include a labrum tear (injury to the hip joint cartilage) or even a hypoestrogenic femoral stress fracture (unlikely, but stress fractures of the lower extremity can happen in distance runners and are quite scary to read about!). While I have been taking plenty of anti-inflammatories, it's not an anatomic area accessible by ice or massage and I'm not sure what else to do about it... other than just rest.  MRIs are the best test for diagnosing these conditions, but I'm really not someone who goes to the doctor a lot, especially if there's not a management plan change that is likely (I would not want to pursue any real surgery and physical therapy is very difficult to access locally and often a prerequisite of advanced imaging or any next steps).

However, resting is really hard!  You need both legs to walk (/limp), and I am a busy active person who likes to keep up with exercise (even playing recreational pickleball is painful!)!  I have been swimming more, which doesn't bother it too much, but have decided to just not to run again until I can walk without pain.   

Kelvin sees me limping around and thinks it’s a no-brainer that I would even consider still working toward the race.   However, I am really bummed about this injury.  The idea of having spent so many hours of time (and emotional investment) in planning/training for this October race (even though I'm not totally trained up and, most of all, really fear being under-prepared/under-trained if I can somehow miraculously recover with a bit rest) bothers me so much-- because I am a person who so often pushes through hard things, even when normal people would probably cut their losses and walk away.  Quitting birth work this year was perhaps one of the only things I've ever quit in my lifetime, and in true upholder form (wanting to meet inner and outer expectations),  I really hate not being able to follow through on the plans I made (which ended up as a goal to complete the race, even though my original "goal" was to just "train for" the race). 

I know that I don't owe anyone anything (and the race entry fee is a sunk cost) by running a race to which my body seems to be saying "NO! NOT WORTH IT!" but it's a very hard pill to swallow for me.  Even though I don’t love running, I wanted to have run a marathon in my lifetime. I also don't think that deferring/training for this race "another year" is realistically something I want to put myself through, as the training just sucks. "Not now" is probably "not ever," in how I see it.  

However, I know that sometimes walking away from something you want is more brave than going through with it despite the pain/costs/challenges and inherent in suffering the choice (I'm trying to have this be a very important lesson for myself and my kids). I am still cautiously taking things week by week, and I am praying for clear signs of what my path (literal steps) should be, but my gut tells me that this race is out of reach. I am trying to find the silver lining in all the things I could do in the hours and hours of time (now and in the future) that are not being tied up by distance running!   

The Arness Archives: My Grandparents, Dad, & The Farm (Part 2)

I adored my long summers on the Arness farm as a child and remember my dear paternal grandparents with such fondness.  I grew up hearing so many funny and amazing stories of their young adulthood, family, married life, which was hard to reconcile with the people I knew in their 60s and 70s (and beyond, for my Grandma), but they were truly remarkable people!   Going through the family records and photos, many marked/labeled with my Grandma Georgine's classic scrawl (and, thankfully, with some dates), was a delight and a trip down memory lane. 

My dad's father, Alton Arness, was born Jan 18, 1921, and was the fourth generation of Arness farmers to live near Fisher, Minnesota. His only brother, my Great-Uncle Duane, was born in 1933, and suffered bad allergies to grain dust, which led to his pursuing a career in accounting rather than farming. 

Alton Arness, 1921 

Grandpa Alton attended the local country school house for eight years and then attended agricultural classes in Crookston at the Northwest Agricultural School in Crookston until he graduated at the young age of 16. 

Grandma Georgine grew up in Climax with her parents and siblings in extremely poor conditions, and told my dad that she had to travel by sleigh to school in the wintertime. She enjoyed playing the trombone, and graduated an impressive third in her class in 1941.

Alton and Georgine, HS Report cards, 1939

1941 Georgine's HS diploma

My grandpa Alton was an incredible musician and played with his father, Art, in the Arness Orchestra, which ran on Saturday nights from about 1924-1948.  From what I recall, he did not read music, only played by ear, and his favorite pieces were ragtime numbers (The Entertainer, Maple Leaf Rag, 12th Street Rag), which I learned to be able to play alongside him as I did so many summers.  He was a talented on the saxophone and trumpet, as well as the piano, on which he also served as a frequent accompanist. My grandparents met on the dance floor, and enjoyed dancing every Saturday night for most of their adult life. My grandmother had lovely ball gowns for their nights out, one of which I proudly wore to my own junior prom in high school! 

 Alton Arness age 19, 1940

 Georgine Elaine Wehus, 1941

Alton accompanied Georgine to her first high school prom and, after a two-year courtship, they married September 19th, 1942 in Climax, her hometown. Their original wedding book (annotated with the various gifts they received, ranging from $0.50- $1) was sweet to see and is now in my "family album." They honeymooned in Detroit Lakes, Minnesota.  Alton was able to defer his WWII military service to remain on and work the Arness farm.

Alton farmed sugar beets and grain. I remember Grandpa Alton telling me often how much he hated chicken because it was his job to slaughter the chickens on the farm while growing up (we, KFC lovers, were aghast).  He was not a wealthy man or high earner, but he saved enough and was able to comfortably retire at age 62 in 1983.

Farming in Fisher, 1942-1983  

Grandma Georgine's siblings did enter WW2 military service, following in her ancestors' footsteps. Her oldest brother, Ainsworth (Ace) Wehus, served as a flight engineer on a B-29 bomber in the Pacific, and and spent twenty-two years in the Airforce, retiring in Oregon.

Ainsworth in 1943 

 I was closest to my Great-Uncle Larry, who joined the Navy in 1943 as a seventeen-year-old and fought in the Pacific. His ship, the U.S.S. Alpine, was struck by Japanese kamikaze bombers. He rejoined the Navy and also served in the Korean War but had significant PTSD from his wartime service. He lived in his later years with a later wife, Chris, in a converted mobile home/cabin in in the woods near Blackduck, Minnesota. I still remember his grizzled voice, his popeye-like appearance, his cozy home, and his array of taxidermied animals within.  (Mountain Peaks and Dogs' Tails, p. 67-68).

Lawrence Wehus and Georgine Wehus Arness, 1945 

Georgine's youngest brother Wallace (Wally) Wehus also joined the army.  He later worked for Dow Chemicals and lived in Denver, Colorado.

 

Gayle, my Grandmother Georgine's youngest sister, passed away early at age 29 from likely Crohn's disease, leaving behind three young children (Randy, Kristi, and Teresa). Only having one son (my dad, Craig, wo had flown the nest at that point), Grandma took in Gayle's two daughter, Kristi, and Teresa, and cared for them as her own children for two and a half years, until their father, Gordon Hadrava, remarried (Mountain Peaks and Dogs' Tails, p. 69). 

My dad, Craig Arden, was born in 1948, and was the only child of my grandparents. My grandmother was so proud of her son, and saved so many of his childhood photos, awards, and news articles about him, over his lifetime. Many of these were displayed in the grand "history wall" on the farm, but there were many photos that I hadn't remembered seeing before which are now in my album sleeves.  My Dad tells his firsthand account of his (pretty happy) childhood in many pages of his memoir-- I'm amazed at how many people, including pastors, neighbors, and classmates, he can recall with such detail, > 60 years later!

Alton and Craig, stellar musicians, 1950 

1950

1951

1952

Georgine, Craig, Alton Arness 1952

Craig and Alton, 1952

Dad spent many hours alone on the farm and in the farm house reading, tinkering, exploring, and playing, and is the person I know most happiest to be left alone (I might be a close second)! The farm house got indoor plumbing in around 1948, the year of his birth!

Cowboy Craig,  1954

Georgine, Alton, and Craig 1954 

 Craig with Great Uncle Gustave and Irene, Brainerd MN, 1954

Georgine and Craig at the piano, 1955 (age 7)

Ventriloquist in Training, 1956

Winter on the Arness Farm, 1957

Grandma Georgine was pretty rigid forcing him into piano and tap dancing lessons (starting at age five).

With Boni Huber, tap partner, 1957

Dad's paternal Grandparents Clara and Arthur Arness, 1957

He took up the trumpet and, in fifth grade, was part of Fisher High School's band!

1958

Tickling the ivories, just like his dad, 1959

He was an outstanding trumpet soloist, 1961

Georgine and Alton Arness, 1960s

Lewis/Nina Wehus with Gayle, Ainsworth, Wally, Georgine, c. 1960s

My dad was (still is!) an incredibly well-read person, and excelled at his tiny local rural school of Fisher High.  Quite quite the academic and musician, he also played baseball, basketball, and football. 

He was Valedictorian in 1966.

He went on to attend Carleton College in Northfield, MN, the first in his family to leave the farming tradition.

Alton and Craig c. 1966  

He got his undergraduate degree in Russian Area Studies and was one of twenty-five students selected for a summer experience in Europe in 1968. After studying Russian in Moscow, he witnessed (and wrote about) the Russian invasion of Bratislava, Czechoslovakia in 1968. He then went on to obtain a Master's degree at Yale.

Carleton College Graduation in 1970

Alton, Craig, Georgine 1970s

Craig met my mom, Rekha, while he was assigned to work for the U.S. government in Madras, India in the 1970s after his Master's program and she had returned home after college in Virginia.  His letters home even made the local news in tiny Fisher, MN! 

Jaipur Gate, India, ~1975

from farms to elephant-riding!

Rekha Visvanathan

~1972 (age 19)

My Mom (Rekha) and family 

My parents married in 1976 with receptions in both India and in Minnesota.

Laurie Kleven, a farm neighbor, celebrates in an Indian sari, 1976

Teresa, Georgine, Rekha, and Kristi, ~1976

This is one of my parents' first Christmases married, when they lived in NY (1977).

Rekha, Alton, and Georgine, 1980

I knew Georgine and Alton as fun, mostly grandparents in their older years, but my dad remembers and recalls a lot more in his book. He recounts how stressed by Grandpa could be about the weather and finances involving farming. He also talks about how rigid and demanding his mom was as a parent.  While he brought her much joy and helped take care of her at the end, they were much different people!  He was bookish, highly educated, and cultured, and she cared a lot about decorations and fashion, turning their farmhouse into a mix of pink and purple (shag carpet!) in their later years.

Georgine and Alton Arness, 1980s

In 1982, my grandparents celebrated 40 years of marriage

(me in 1998, junior prom, in the same dress)

I was baptized in Fisher in the summer of 1982, and the pastor famously forgot to show up!

My Grandma Nina Dale Wehus was still alive until I was about 11 years old.

Grandma Nina (left) with daughter Georgine

In the 1980s and onward in retirement, my grandparents enjoyed music, dancing, farmstead beautification, church, and community events. Grandpa Alton served as chairman of Roome Township, president of the Farmers Elevator Company of Eldred, president of the Fisher Lutheran Church, Council, and County 4-H President, and was a member of the Eagles Lodge and Sons of Norway (among other roles). Grandma Georgine taught Sunday School at Fisher Lutheran Church for sixteen years, and found joy in art work, ceramic painting, gardening, and interior (and exterior) decorating. I remember volunteering and making "recycled" greeting cards with scalloped scissors at the Golden Link Senior Center in Crookston.

Craig and Alton, 1980s

 Senior Prom Grand Forks ND, 1988

Arness Farm in summer

Fall visitor: a moose! 

The farm was seasonally decorated, always, by my Grandma.

April! (still winter in northern MN!)

Grandpa Alton was an incredibly genial and easygoing man, and a delightful human without any enemies. I remember his hilarious stories about how he once closed a car door on his own head, and how in a restaurant, he sent a steak flying across the room when trying to politely cut it with a knife.   I adored visiting their farmhouse most summers, with the pink and purple rooms (Vanessa and I had the room next to theirs) and the different other bedrooms of the four-bedroom house with "tiger" and "leopard" themes. The five-acre farmstead was meticulously kept, with beautiful flower gardens kept and weeded by my Grandma (in coveralls and a hair bonnet) and mowed on Tuesdays, and painted ceramic animals all around.

 Grandpa Alton enjoyed morning coffee with his buddies at nearby cafes and tinkering with his classic cars, but he faithfully and cheerfully did his tractor mowing and "drove miss Daisy" and us girls around-- to the Crookston pool, the library, to weekly shopping and hair appointments on Fridays in Grand Forks and to eat at the Royal Fork buffet. Grandma always had closets of frilly dresses for us to wear in the summers, spoiled us at Grand Forks' Columbia Mall, and had a freezer full of homemade treats (cookies and "bars") for us to enjoy (my favorites were divinity, butterscotch-marshmallow bars, and sugar cookies). Grandma woke up every day at 5 a.m., always had her make-up done, and should have bought stock in Aqua Net hairspray.

Arness family in 1985 with Alton's 1957 Thunderbird

Alton 1990s

1987 

Musical magic with Alton! 1988

I started playing the flute in around 1990 (can you see the living room purple shag carpet beneath our feet?).

Reunion for Alton, c 1990

Norwegian dress, Georgine, 1990s

We loved seeing our other MN Arness family-- with Amy, Richard, Marilyn and Duane in 1989

with Ty and Alex Pearson, 1991 

With cousins Stacy, Jessica, Lyndsey, Nicole, Courtney, and Lee, c. 1992

Arnesses at Maple Lake, where Duane and Marilyn lived, in 1992 

In 1992, my grandparents celebrated fifty years of marriage! I was so awed and amazed at the milestone, and my parents just celebrated their Golden Anniversary this summer! 

My grandmother, Nina, survived several heart attacks but lived to celebrate the day, only to pass later in the year (with Larry, Georgine, Ainsworth, and Wally).

1994 or 1995 

Outstanding Senior Citizens, 1995

Alton with Vanessa,  1996

Our last Christmas together in McLean, 1997

My beloved Grandfather, a longtime smoker, had bouts of prostate and later lung cancer, and died in March of 1998 at age 77.  I remember being extremely distraught at his funeral. The world lost a great man that day. 

He, like almost all my Arness relatives, is buried in local Bardo Cemetery.

My Grandma continued to live life to the fullest, even as a widow, for more than two decades. 

The "Red Hat" club.  ~2004 

Her classic Christmas tree

Grandma Georgine moved off the large farm after my grandfather's death into a smaller Summit Place apartment, which I visited while in college and then, later, when I attended medical school at Mayo in Minnesota which I was so glad kept me (geographically) closer than I'd ever been. She was so proud to see me graduate high school, college, and from the Mayo Clinic College of Medicine in  2007, but suffered various health issues as she aged, including heart attacks, breast cancer, arthritis, and dementia, later ending up in a memory care unit in Crookston. 

She died October 10, 2018 at age ninety-five, which I wrote about here, titled after her favorite song (Somewhere, My Love, from Dr. Zhivago) and where I reunited for her memorial with a lot of my MN family and roots, sadly, probably for one of my last times in a corner of the state and world that held so much history of my family, as my aging parents reside in Virginia.  I will, as long as I live, remember my Arness grandparents, their farm, and their ancestors whose history I'm happy to know. Rest in peace!