I live and write on Lingít Aaní, and gratefully acknowledge the past, present and future caretakers of this beautiful place, the Jilkaat Kwaan and Jilkoot Kwaan.

Am I the only one who couldn’t sleep last night after all those horrific images from Boston? I won’t look anymore. The radio is enough. How could anyone be so evil? All I kept thinking about was when my husband ran the 100th anniversary Boston Marathon. His parents, Grandma Joanne and Phil, waited at the finish line with our oldest daughter, Eliza, then in eight grade. Imagine. I can’t. I qualifed for Boston six times, but never managed to run it, since training in Alaska for an April marathon is hard.  But Chip did, and last night he got out his jacket. I’ve never seen him wear it. But today he is.  The late Dr. George Sheehan, the running philospher and author said,”Running isn’t a religion, it’s a place, like Alaska.” I still jog some, but my last marathon was before my first knee surgery. Today I will take a run. I won’t go too far, or too fast, but I will do it, because that seems to me to be the proper response. Maybe you will, too?