Sometimes DC is great. It holds the places where people come to reflect and honor and remember; and this week as the rain came pelting down and the cold ate at my legs I went running among these places. It was early morning and the DC crowds were nowhere to be seen. But I was out there and I discovered that I have a perfect 6 mile route --- 3 miles to the Lincoln Memorial and then 3 miles back. It's oh-so-very-DC. And the best part was that when I got to the Memorial, and ran up the steps, I was alone. Alone with a giant stone president who people come from around the world to see. It felt like when I had the galleries of the Art Insitute of Chicago to myself. An honor and a risk. A moment not everyone has. And so I stood there looking at Lincoln and then looking out onto DC. To the reflecting pool and the Washington Monument and the greyness of the rain. It was a luxury.
And in the memorial, surrounded by quiet echos and the dull whimper of the morning's rain, I noticed for the first time that Lincoln's hands are sending us a message. Maybe you've noticed but I hadn't. One giant paw is in a fist and the other is open, fingers nearly strumming the arm of his chair. One says think about it and take your time, while the other says take hold and fight hard. A smart message. A determined one. One that I took to heart. And carried home in the rain.
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