I’m not a church goer. (I can hear my mom saying, “Oh, Maggie.”) Sure, I grew up Catholic, took first communion. Almost every Sunday my family would attend mass at St. Benedict’s Church and then hit the Pizza Hut for lunch. I got married in a Catholic church, much to Fred’s initial resistance, and my kids were baptized Catholic. (Honestly, I’m surprised none of us have been struck by God’s lightning bolt yet.) But over time, I’ve fallen off the Catholic bandwagon and simply have no interest in attending church in the traditional sense.
So what to do I do on Sundays? I run. And when I run, I find my own peace, my calm, my time for questioning and reflection, all while embraced by the sights, sounds and beauty of nature.