Two Minutes Du Jour

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Let the marathon begin.

I am not a runner. Never have been. Never aspired to be. If I were a runner, I wouldn’t be a marathoner; I’d be a sprinter.

However … when it comes to the holidays, I fully embrace the wisdom of marathoners.

And that probably comes from being a walker.

Walking and marathoning both rely on pace, rhythm, breath, and presence. That how I realized that gatherings of any size operate the same way.

A Thanksgiving for two people can feel just as big — emotionally, logistically, and spiritually — as Thanksgiving for 20. Sure, the scale changes, but the effort and intention remain.

Quite simply: holidays are marathons, not sprints. And between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, it’s a full track-and-field extravaganza. Not in the athletic sense, but in the pace-yourself-or-pay-for-it sense.

I learned some of this in my stay-at-home mom years, working within one oven, four burners, no pantry, and barely any counter space. But the idea truly crystallized during two very different Thanksgivings.

A sisters’ Thanksgiving in the early ’90s

In the early ’90s, my family and I often alternated Thanksgivings — some years I hosted, and other years we gathered at my sister Ginny’s house in Des Moines. One particular year, our sister Katherine, who lived in Montreal at the time (and is now the one who lives in Panama), visited with our niece.

Fun fact: the cousins were born in ’89, ’90, ’91, and ’92, so it was a lively free-for-all.

Since I wasn’t hosting that year, I played the role of collaborating on the holiday with Ginny. Katherine hadn’t experienced one of our multi-family Thanksgivings, so we explained that the meal itself isn’t “hard” — the turkey is essentially a large chicken, and the sides are comfort foods — but the variety, quantity, and timing turn it into an endurance event.

That’s why we approach it like a marathon: train, prepare, pace, enjoy. Seeing that explanation land for her helped me recognize the pattern I’d already been following for years.

The Thanksgiving Eve of 1996

For example in 1996, the marathon mindset became non-negotiable.

I had just returned to agency life after seven years freelancing from home — only seven weeks into a new job, with no option to take a vacation day to shop and cook for Thanksgiving. I came through the door around 6 p.m. that Wednesday (thankfully my husband had already gotten the groceries) and I was ready to begin prep, when my brother-in-law called to ask what time to show up the next day (not that he hadn’t already been told!) — and to casually mention he was bringing several Russian guests.

That run-on sentence parallels my exasperation in that moment.

Yikes.

Everything shifted. I was in tears. I likely uttered a few four-letter words. I called my husband who was still at his office. He would stop at the grocery store on the way home to procure more of everything. Then I retied my apron, stopped sprinting, and started marathoning. We stayed up until midnight chopping, mixing and re-arranging things.

That Thanksgiving Eve taught me two truths that guide every holiday season over then next decades:
Acceptance: My BIL will always bring extra guests – sometimes I get a heads up and sometimes they just appear.
Preparation: The only sane strategy is to plan for small, medium and large, and to pace myself through the entire season.

Tomorrow, in Part 2 of 3, I’ll share how that night pushed me to think beyond a single holiday — and start marathoning and enjoying the whole season from Thanksgiving through New Years.

Two Links Du Jour:

A pair of fun Thanksgiving-adjacent sources I’m sharing simply because I love a good tradition — whether new to me or familiar:

Bell’s Seasoning – A New England Thanksgiving Classic: A true New England classic dating back to 1867. I’ve never tried it, but after reading this article in Yankee magazine, I’m eager to buy a box – if not for the flavor for the vintage turkey emblem.

Sources: 100% All-natrual, Minnesota-grown Wild Rice and S!deaway Foods/Anchor Ingredients (available seasonally at Costco) – Wild rice is a staple in our holiday meals and it’s a quintessential Minnesota ingredient.