Running to Your Dreams: Wendelin Van Draanen's The Running Dream

I approached The Running Dream with some trepidation. I have read several other "recovery from a physical injury" books, but this one struck close to home: as a high school track athlete, I injured my knee and have since gone through two surgeries, numerous reinjuries, physical therapy, and chronic patellar tendinitis. Even though it had been years since I'd been able to run long distances, I still missed it, and I was scared to reopen old wounds and desires.

Yet I felt compelled to read it, having read several of Wendelin van Draanen's other works, knowing that she is a former track athlete (and current marathoner) herself, and knowing how much research goes into her books. I'm so thankful I did.

My fears were correct; The Running Dream made me re-experience many emotions: the sudden loss of being a member of a team, the grief over not being able to do your favorite activity any longer, the worry that people will only see your scars instead of your formerly "hot legs," the frustration of not being able to do things that once were second nature to you, the stress of missing school and having to catch up, the concern over the effect of your rehab on the time and finances of your family...

But it also made me remember other experiences: new friendships with people you otherwise might never have met, the gratitude for friends who stand by you and help you laugh, the patience that you can only develop through trials, the realization of what really matters to you, the joy in simple movement you rediscover as your body heals, the reminder that recovery (like all things worth doing in life) is done "step-by-step-by-step-by-step."

It's easy for "recovery from injury" books to get bogged down in the specific details of the particular injury/illness the person is recovering from, or to focus too much on the "stages of grief" and the protagonist's inner struggles. The Running Dream falls into neither trap. It is obviously well-researched and gives enough detail to help the reader imagine what it's like to suddenly not have one of your feet.

In one particularly vivid scene, the protagonist, Jessica, takes a shower for the first time after losing her leg, and is frustrated over how long it takes her to get up the stairs and how difficult it is to get into the tub. But then while bathing, she conducts a thought experiment on how difficult it would be to lose a hand instead. This scene stands out because it is one of the few that really focuses so much on Jessica's difficulties; in other scenes, they're there in the background, but the other concerns of her life are increasingly the focus as she adapts to her disability.

The Running Dream starts off in Jessica's hospital room, where she's alone with her thoughts. These scenes are mercifully short, giving the reader a glimpse into the despair and sorrow that comes with losing a limb, without wallowing in it. This enables the reader to fill in the details from their own imagination, while the story moves on to explore broader themes of friendship, teamwork, the power of a community, seeing people for who they are on the inside instead of what they are physically, and the importance of staying the course when facing joys and pitfalls in pursuing a goal.

One of Wendelin van Draanen's strongest writing traits is her interesting, memorable, realistic, dynamic characters. The Running Dream is no exception. The characters are all loveable yet flawed -- which somehow just makes them more loveable. Jessica is talented, strong, dedicated, caring, and team-oriented, but she's also insecure, bad at math, and occasionally grumpy and self-centered (understandably so, given what she's gone through, and yet she realizes that she must turn her focus outward again as she copes with her disability). Her best friend, Fiona, is enthusiastic, organized, loving, and energetic, but she sometimes is overbearing and speaks before she thinks. Jessica's new friend, Rosa, is a philosophical "math genius" who is sometimes content to let life happen to her (or just pass her by). The Running Dream suggests that perhaps Facebook was correct that "friend" is a verb -- an active, continuous verb. Jessica realizes how tenuous friendships can become if you don't work to maintain them, especially when the things you have in common slip away.

The romance in The Running Dream is a mere side-story to reinforce the theme that character is more important than the outer package (even when the outer package is attractive). It's refreshing to see a healthy teen romance that becomes an important part of Jessica's life without consuming her other interests and responsibilities. However, the romance is just a side-story, and so much of it is left to the reader's imagination.

The main arc of the story is focused on Jessica re-establishing her personal identity, realizing that she's still the same person, and regaining her ability to run. Throughout the book, little bubbles of hope rise to the surface, building to a triumphant finale. The book is grounded in reality; there's no promise that a prosthesis will suddenly make everything completely better. Success requires hard work and dedication. But with hard work, dedication, and the support of friends and family, you can be happy working towards your goals, because happiness is in the journey, not just at the destination.

The Running Dream is truly one of the most uplifting, inspirational, hopeful, triumphant books I've ever read. When I finished reading it, I got up and ran. Just 50 steps, but I ran. And the next day, I ran two sets of 50 steps. I've continued to build my mileage, slowly, through run-walking. I've faced setbacks, even a period of not being able to run at all for 4 months. But throughout the difficulties, I remember the lessons I learned from The Running Dream: how every goal must be tackled step by step, to focus on the bigger picture (realizing that even with setbacks, if you keep moving forward, you'll still end up farther along than if you'd just given up), how setbacks build character and strengthen resolve, the importance of doing what I love because I love it, not to compare myself to my past self.

I can say with certainty that I would not be running today if I hadn't read "The Running Dream." I have loved running since before I can even remember (I used to escape and run laps around church as a toddler). I have tried countless other times to start running again, but it was only after reading The Running Dream that I was able to be gentle enough with myself, to give myself permission to build literally step by step, and to be patient and not give up in the face of setbacks. This book has changed my life. I still think about it and look to it for inspiration at least once a week, even though it's been over a year since I last read it. I've read it more than once, and it helped me find perspective and strengthen my resolve in the face of other difficulties besides running.

They say you can't put hope in a box, but as long as you can fit The Running Dream in a box, you can. I recommend it to anyone struggling with any kind of setback, from 12 to 112. It is a book with layers, one that will continue to inspire on each reading (and even between readings). It just might change your life, as it did mine.

Note: The Running Dream is deceptively short and uses simple vocabulary, but it is by no means simple itself. I have worked with middle and high schoolers who struggled with reading, and many of the books for "reluctant readers" I've read with them were "babyish" (their word, not mine). I think The Running Dream would be excellent for this demographic; it is accessible but thought-provoking.

ReJoycing that I didn't attempt Finnegans Wake: James Joyce's Dubliners

I'm a dual Irish citizen, but growing up in the U.S. I had very little exposure to Irish literature in school: Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett in AP English Literature and Part VII of "Station Island" by Seamus Heaney in Intro. to Poetry Writing in college.  I've read more Heaney, several contemporary Irish authors, and some Yeats, Kavanagh, Pearse, and Wilde (well, part of The Picture of Dorian Gray, anyway), but despite all the pubs and festivals named after him, I had yet to read any Joyce.

Thus, in early January, James Joyce topped my "to read" list for 2012.  Several friends tried to warn me away, so I read more about his writing style.  I knew that he had written short stories, the semi-autobiographical A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Ulysses, and Finnegans Wake.

 Now, the song "Finnegan's Wake" is a fun, funny little Irish ballad about a man who falls off a ladder at work because he's drunk.  At his wake, a fight breaks out over whether he's the nicest corpse you've ever seen, and the "corpse" revives when someone spills liquor on him.  However, as I read about Joyce's Finnegans Wake, the words "stream of consciousness" and "Jabberwocky" jumped out at me.  Faulkner's A Light in August was hard enough to get through, but that crossed with made up words?  For 600+ pages?!?  No thanks!

I was leaning towards either Dubliners or Ulysses.  A collection of short stories seemed easy to read in snippets, and I was particularly intrigued by Dubliners ever since I'd heard that Cathie Ryan's song "Eveline" was inspired by one of its tales.  Regarding Ulysses, I was in Dublin before and after Bloomsday in 2000 -- though I missed it so that I could see Newgrange, Tara, and Drogheda.  Any novel that could continue to inspire people to celebrate it more than a century after it was written had to be a good read.  The library made the decision for me, since it only had Dubliners available.

You can read my long, detailed reactions to most of the stories (or skip to the end for the snarky version) after the jump.

Chekhov's "Chekhov's Gun" Gun: Anton Chekhov's The Sea-Gull

Anton Chekhov had a very firm opinion about loaded guns in stories: "One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it."  The non-firing of a Chekhov's gun can leave the reader with an unsettled feeling at the end of a piece of literature.*  When I saw a loaded gun appear in Act II of Chekhov's The Sea-Gull, I became excited since I knew it would be fired by the end of the play.

Mission Impossible: Twenty Minutes, Main Branch Library, Two Books

June had started, and I was on a time-critical mission.  I had 20 minutes to compare Russian classics, pick the easiest one to read, find it and Twelfth Night on the shelves, check out, and start the walk back to church in time for mass.  Easy-peasy lemon squeezy, right?

I entered the library and walked to the elevator, where I was reminded by the map that adult fiction was at the front of the library, in the display rooms.  As I backtracked, I sidetracked to the computer card catalog, since I had found other classics in the reference section before.  Confirmed, 822-something and 891-something.  There were no pencils and papers, but it was okay.  I could remember that.

I mashed both elevators' buttons and rode the first arrival to the third floor.  Only 15 minutes left.

12 in 2012: Reading Classics from around the World

"I should read that some day," I often think when I hear an allusion to a particular book.  But "some day" is vague and never happens, so in 2012 I decided to read more good literature.  What is "more"?  What is "good"?  And what is "literature"?

In 2012, I will read at least 12 classics that I have never read before, focusing mostly on non-American and non-British literature.  The classics can be fiction, non-fiction, novels, plays, short stories, poetry, essays, etc.  With the help of family, friends, and librarians, my goal evolved into reading at least one book from each (permanently inhabited) continent.  My tentative list of classics includes (bolded are ones I've read so far in 2012):

1. The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu (Japan/Asia) -- Tyler or Seidensticker translation
2. Night by Elie Wiesel (Romania/Eastern Europe) -- Marion Wiesel translation
3. Ulysses, A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, or Dubliners by James Joyce (Ireland/Western Europe)
4. Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe (Nigeria/Africa)
5. One Hundred Years of Solitude (or something else) by Gabriel García Márquez (Colombia/South America) -- ? translation
6. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini (Afghanistan/the Middle East)*
7. Tao Te Ching by Laozi (China/Asia) -- Chichung Huang translation
8. The Analects of Confucius by his followers (China/Asia) -- Ames and Rosemont translation
9. The Art of War by Sun-tzu (China/Asia) -- J. H. Huang translation
10. Twelfth Night or King Lear by William Shakespeare (England/Western Europe) -- I would eventually like to read the Bard's complete opus, so I figure reading one this year is a good start
11. something Australian, preferably available at Dekalb County (GA) public libraries
12. something Russian (Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, or Nabokov)
13. oops, guess I still need something from North America, too -- maybe Canadian? (but nothing too cold!)