“She is standing in a constant state of grace,

No shoes on her feet, no sorrow on her face.

While the world just sees a vagabond

Who has lost the human race,

She is standing in a constant state of grace.”

Lyrics by Irene Kelley from “Constant State of Grace”

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By Connie Strong

I’m feeling a bit better about Chipper Voice: She evidently has a cohort who, unlike her, does not lie. Greeting the beautiful spring-is-in-the-air March morning, I set out to rack up a couple more miles with my Nike+ Challenge Spy-ometer. Imagine my surprise at Chipper Voice #2 telling me, at the end of my 48 minutes, that I had completed my longest “run” to date! What I know about gadgetry could fit on the back of a postage stamp, so I was left to question, “HOW DOES SHE KNOW THAT?! HOW DOES THAT WORK?!”  And so began an entire day of questions.

Later that morning, I was asked, “Why are there only pictures of shoes and boots on your blog? Why not post a picture of you– in motion?” That question has a very simple answer: Because I walk out the door to exercise with whatever I have on my back at the time. Usually, I hit the pavement looking like the poster-child for “What Not to Wear.” My near-fluorescent ‘techno-tennies’ are paired with paint-stained sweats that never match the t-shirt du jour, which never match the socks, the headband, the IPod, or the sunglasses. (“Dear Nike, Please send clothes.”) There is no make-up and the hair looks like it was styled in a cotton candy machine; but somehow I still manage to log in the same amount of distance as if I were adorned in the latest workout fashion.

For the first time since the Challenge began, I checked the Nike website to get the specific data on my efforts. After several attempts at remembering my password, I (finally) found sweet success—and my “report card.” I have moved up to the Orange Level, and have completed 22.5 miles. And I found myself asking the next question: If I would have accomplished those miles “as the crow flies,” and would have logged all 22.5 miles in the same day, could I have walked to the nearest Mexican Restaurant for pork tacos?

Believe it or not, I do have a serious side. I am working on a very somber article. About? The homeless. We see them under bridges buried beneath filthy coats and makeshift blankets, pushing shopping carts containing collections of their life’s paltry possessions, begging for small change on the corners of busy intersections and we question, “Why don’t they just get a job?” Many times, we swear under our breaths and write them off as drug addicts or alcoholics.

But what I have found in my research thus far is that the labels we assign to these fellow human beings are misnomers. Many of these unfortunate people are ill, many have fallen on hard times, many have just “checked out” of society due to pressures that most of us can handle—they cannot. How very fortunate are we?

During a recent performance at The Bugle Boy, Irene Kelley told her story of an encounter with a homeless lady that she felt compelled to stop and help. But each time Irene elected to pass by her without stopping; she admits that she could not find the courage to stop. Instead, she wrote a beautiful song as a tribute to her, “Constant State of Grace.”

That song was playing in my iPod as I trudged down my little country road where the Bluebonnets were just beginning to stretch their sleepy winter petals towards the warm sun. And my question was, “How very fortunate am I?”

If I look like a vagabond walking down the road, it’s because I have not taken the time to ready myself for the day ahead. Thankfully, it is not because I have had to forage for food in dumpsters filled with last night’s scraps. My newspapers are for reading, not for protecting my body from the elements. My cardboard boxes are for storage, not for shelter.

I have found that walking/running is good for the soul. When there’s nothing to separate you from your thoughts, when the wind is blowing your cotton-candy hairdo, when all pretenses are left further behind in the dirt with each passing step, there is time to question—

Maybe I’ll buy some “real” clothes and post a “real” picture. Or maybe I’ll spend a bit more time on the homeless cause. Or maybe I’ll make it to the Blue Level.  (Or to the nearest Mexican Restaurant.)

Regardless of the questions I may have during my tour with the human “race”, only one answer has become perfectly clear to me: “She” is not the only one who is standing in a constant state of grace.

These boots are made for “running”
Kinky’s boots: Photo by Mary Chavoustie

By Connie Strong

Imagine my surprise at opening my email to see a message from Nike: “You won a Nike Challenge.” Few things could be funnier than this, and for those of you who know me, you understand completely. Upon opening the email I find this message: “You placed 1st in the Connie Be Strong challenge.” Attached was my virtual gold trophy, which I was able to view after clicking the “Admire TROPHY Here!” icon. Now, I have to be perfectly honest: I was the only Challenger.

Does that make me any less a winner? I’ve decided not.

The Connie Be Strong Challenge was set up as a trial run to “test” my equipment, to make sure I knew what I was doing when it came to sending the info to Nike, and to be absolutely certain that I would be able to log into the Foot Soldiers’ challenge site. Everything worked as promised, and I began Week 1 of plugging along down the country roads, adding—step by step—to my accumulated distance. The Challenge that Lane and I designed was to end with the first Challenger to reach a distance of 10 miles: Since I was the only competitor, that would be me! Without really giving too much thought to it, I managed to log in 11.67 miles and “win” the Challenge.

To a serious walker/runner/jogger that would be accomplished in one or two days. For me? Well, let’s just say I got it done and leave it at that. I walked in the sun, I walked in the drizzling rain, I walked at night, during the day, and I even walked in the rarely-occurring snow!

Car #1, “Would you like a ride?” “No thanks. I’m walking for exercise.” Gives me an odd look, drives on.

Car #2, “Ma’am,” (ouch), “can I offer you a lift?” “No thanks, I’m just walking for exercise.” “But, it’s freezing out here!”  (I’ve noticed this, trust me) “Thanks, but I’ll get home in no time.”

Car #3, “Connie, what are you doing out here?! IT’S SNOWING! Is everything ok?!” By this time I am beginning to doubt my sanity—plus, I’m building up a bit of snow on my lime green Nikes– but I, again, turn down the ride.

These are the type of moments that make for great private memories. I cannot remember a recent time that I felt more alive. Yes, the little round ice pellets that were mixed in with the soft, gentle snowflakes pounded my skin like dozens of tiny needles, but there was something very surreal about the whole situation that I will fondly remember long after those icy offerings have melted away.

This is not to say that all went well. Along the way, I’ve discovered that Chipper Voice is known to tell a lie or two. For example: During one particular work-out I walked for 30+ minutes, (1.99 miles) and Chipper Voice proudly, happily proclaims that I have burned off 148 calories! And I think, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” I felt sure that I had walked off the chips, pork tacos, chips, beans, chips, rice, chips, and margarita that I devoured the previous night. (Did I mention chips?) But, alas, Chipper Voice assures me that, no, I only burned off 148 calories—the equivalent of, maybe, the rice.

So I decided to forego the box of Valentine’s Day candy given to me by my sweet hubby. I checked: 2 pieces of candy have 150 calories. I would have to brave the elements for 30 minutes just to walk off the damage: It’s much easier (??) to bypass the chocolates.

This morning I walked in the sunshine, with no one asking if I needed a ride, and I thought about Kinky Friedman’s recent loss in the Democratic Primary race for Agriculture Commissioner. On Sunday he and I, along with photographer Mary Chavoustie, sat under the huge trees behind The Bugle Boy that seemed to welcome us—and spring—and I interviewed a true Texas gentleman.

I thought about his hopes of winning the election and his passion for Texas and its people. I could not help but feel honored to have met the man behind that dream; a self-proclaimed “Renaissance Texan” who is never afraid to run the good race.

Through the ages, it’s been said that it doesn’t matter whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game. This time, I have entered the “real” Foot Soldiers’ Challenge, and have no chance at winning. I know that, without a doubt: I just don’t care. I feel better with each passing mile, with each passing day. Step by step, I am winning my own race.

I won my virtual gold trophy during the week of the Winter Olympics, which makes it seem even funnier to me. That same week, I placed 3^rd in a cooking competition, which I figure certainly cancels out the other accomplishment. I’ve decided that no matter how many calories I burned along the way, I didn’t come close to cancelling the calories involved in taste-testing my culinary creation.

But all is not lost; tomorrow is another day—hopefully also sunny. I will walk on, and Kinky will regroup, hopefully resurfacing to run again. A new day, a new race; life goes on, one step at a time.

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Watch for my upcoming interview with Kinky in “Conversations with the Artist.”