Running with the Researcher Rolls in 2026
It’s heavy. Do you feel the weight?
To keep it 100, I have gained weight. It’s the dead middle of January. That point where the very well-meaning intention of getting in shape in the new year to be ready for a hot girl summer comes crashing down with the reality of your energy levels, finances, and social obligations.
I have seen more ads for weight loss drugs in the past month than I have in the entire course of my life previously. But that is a topic we will leave for another day.
Maybe that’s what I’m feeling too.
Weight.
It wasn’t a slow creep; it was an ambush. First, I got really sick in November. Then, the holiday season hit with that specific brand of “festive chaos” only a mother of four knows. Then came the deadline for my narrative literature review, Myth & Marrow. My schedule shifted from constant movement to sitting in a chair for hours, fueled by late-night fast food and the cortisol of academic rigor.
Add a 42nd birthday (for a Black woman, read: PERIMENOPAUSE) to the mix and—BOOM. Ten pounds that were absolutely not there previously set up camp on my thighs and core.
To be fair, my wife says she likes my thighs (God, I love Black women), but I am horrified. I am not used to the additional rolls.
Back during the turn of the century (literally. That is so…depressing…) I was an Athletic Training major. I wanted to be the head trainer for the St. Louis Rams. (Please never ask me to explain this.) I maintained an active life, and I always have. Gym membership has never been a factor. I will move my body because my body wants to move.
So when I looked in the mirror and poked at the new “jiggle,” I made a deal with myself: I have the discipline to write a manuscript for peer review. Therefore, I have the discipline to run a half-marathon.
Like the narrative literature review, it was supposed to be a secret goal. A little quiet quest I kept to myself in case I failed. The quiet quests are designed to keep my energy and intellect focused amongst the confusion, oppression, and exploitation of our present age. It is an ancestral technology that has been found across continents and cultures. But because I apparently love accountability (or public humiliation, I’m really trying to decide which) almost as much as I currently hate 180 burpees, I am making this quest public. If there is another woman -a mother out there, a woman with no steady income, but financial obligations; a sistah with weight she didn’t ask for; a girl- who wants to prove to herself that she can do it, I’m making this quest public for you.
Movement is also an ancestral technology. I am re-evaluating so many of my habits, beliefs, and practices because of this work -this research- that I am doing. Even the act of running has taken on new meaning for me.
I ran track in high school. Not well, I do not want to give you that impression. I joined the team to spend more time with a friend who was moving away forever. Running became kind of a habit for me after that point, something my body felt like doing when it felt like a shaken soda bottle.
Black friends not on the team, and those that I would share this with in adulthood would say things like, “The only reason to run is from dogs or police.” I simply do not have enough time here to unpack that statement, but the sentiment is clear: run for survival and nothing else.
But wellness is something we are all paying a bit more attention to these days. We need to be well because this nation, and the culture it has produced, is sick. Our bodies must be well to sustain the fight against evil (calling a spade a spade here). We must lean on the healing technologies that we know and understand culturally -that meet our needs physically- to thrive after this fight. So I am reclaiming why I run. I am reclaiming it for me. I run not to survive, but to shed the weight of this culture.
It isn’t about achieving a physical shape, but rather an emotional state.
So, here we are. I am officially training for a half-marathon in 2026. The “Rollin’ Researcher” era is over. The “Runnin’ Researcher” era has begun.
The Report Card: Week 2
I asked my “Digital Coach” (AKA the AI tracking my every move) to pull my stats. Here is the breakdown of how it’s going vs. how I feel about it.
1. The Wake-Up Call
- The Stat: I was up and running by 4:58 AM this week.
- The Reality: Do I want to be up at 4:58 AM? No. But my “Active Brain” knows that if I don’t run before the “J Squad” wakes up, I don’t run at all. There is something spiritually violent about an alarm going off that early, but I did it.
2. The “Parent Pivot”
- The Stat: I logged 100% adherence to my workouts, even when I had to swap my Saturday long run to Sunday because… kids.
- The Reality: On Sunday, I ran 5.57 miles. This was accidental overachieving. The plan called for 4 miles. My legs apparently can’t count. I started way too fast (9:22/mile!) and paid for it by Mile 3, where my soul briefly left my body. But we recovered!
3. The Speed Surprise
- The Stat: During a short run this week, I clocked an 8:54 mile.
- The Reality: I didn’t know I still had that gear! I felt like a superhero for exactly one mile. Then I remembered I’m 42 and doing this to fight off fast-food consequences.
The AFRO Rating
Applying the MetaCocoMom system to my new life as a runner:
- A (Active Brains): High. I have to constantly calculate pace, distance, and how much coffee I need to survive the day.
- F (Focused Art): Getting there. There was a moment during that 8-minute mile where I felt actual flow. It wasn’t just exercise; it was rhythm.
- R (Real Experiences): Very High. There is nothing more “real” than the biting cold of Carmichael at 5 AM.
- O (Opportunities): High. I’m using this to reclaim my body from the desk chair.
- P (Practicalities): Taxing. It costs energy. It costs sleep. But it’s cheaper than a new wardrobe because my pants don’t fit.
The Bottom Line
I am currently ahead of schedule on my training plan. The manuscript is written, the kids are fed, and the rolls are… on notice.
Watch this space. We are running 13.1 miles this year. And if I collapse, at least I’ll have a peer-reviewed paper to leave behind as my legacy.
What are your 2026 health goals?
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