I was talking with a friend from Nike last night, and our conversation brought me back to the first time I saw those gorgeous copy-heavy Nike print ads aimed at women in the early 90s. Women portrayed as strong female athletes with something to say, for once.
This poem was inspired by those storytelling ads and the group of women I’ve been running with for almost 20 years. Running isn’t just running to us. It’s the thread that weaves together our life experiences.
In the dawn we run,
pound our way, panting, ranting
just eight more miles to go
today, and five tomorrow.
We pass girlfriends with hands
wrapped around steaming lattes,
and faces dancing with conversation
and we say,
“One day we will walk.”
Today we run, defiantly
Ha! Age will not catch us.
Our knees, still good,
our feet obedient
just three more miles to go,
and five tomorrow.
We pass women sitting on benches,
happily resting weary bones
and we say,
“One day we will sit.”
But today we run
just one more mile to go
and we will rest,
hands wrapped around steaming lattes,
and we will say,
“Tomorrow we will run.”
KJH, Copyright 2005
I make a living in the world of social media. There, I said it.
I’m the one behind the Facebook tab trying to get you interested in seeing that movie. I’m the one behind that flyaway trip to see your favorite artist backstage. I’m the one who advises clients on how to engage you so they can market to you.
Please don’t shoot the messenger.
I am also the one who has never clicked on a Facebook ad, and thinks that the new Facebook Timeline is looking more and more like the cluttered MySpace Titanic right before it hit that social network iceberg and sunk a few years back.
When I help a client design an engaging social experience online I always ask myself, “Would I click on that?” before I recommend or implement anything. I am not a typical user, but I’m your canary in a coal mine. I have a very low threshold for social media BS.
And speaking of BS, there’s no such thing as a “Social Media Expert.” It’s a nascent industry that’s just hitting puberty. It’s like trying to fully understand a teenager. You can’t. And anyone who tells you they fully understand a teenager isn’t living with one.