Depleted and weary four days following a red sweep of America.

Still impossibly tired of, and from, the 2024 campaign I laced up my Blue running shoes. I might only run a short distance, maybe five miles — out of shape physically and spiritually — defeated even!

I ran my familiar route down 9th Street N.W. to the national mall through the Pollinator Garden, passing the Smithsonian museums of Natural and American histories up the incline to George Washington’s obelisk memorializing our founding father – noting the color differential of the 555 feet; the first third and next two thirds from different quarries… the south and the north… construction paused for The Civil War. And I paused.

Keep going!

At the WW II memorial I glanced at the column celebrating the fallen from Massachusetts, my own birth state and an image of Dad passed me. Slowly I paced along the Reflecting Pool hoping for another vision and two mallards call out mournfully, or is that my own breath?

Keep going!

I arrive at Abe’s Temple, my turning point. Lincoln, this extraordinary 16th President who saved this Union from itself. One eighth of the country enslaved. His second Inaugural address etched on the North wall — I whispered the entirety aloud but wanted to shout the words out from the top of the steps — shout it loudly to be heard at the Capital on the hill within sight, a capital taken by storm on January 6, 2021 at the instruction of a denying, destructive, defeated demonic.

I look at the showcase of diversity standing with me, solemn mostly. I wonder the thoughts and dreams of each one as I trace their faces in my mind’s eye. ‘With malice towards none and charity towards all’ I slowly descend this staircase to heaven and weep for the lost, the lonely, the needy, for our Republic.

I pause on the step where MLK delivered his ‘I have a Dream’ speech…this man who made a career of humanity and devoted the full of his short life to the great cause of Civil Rights. I feel the mountain of despair rise and wonder where MLK’s stone of hope is now? …

Keep going!

Retracing steps up 9th Street I stop at the building I pass every day that stands between Constitution and Pennsylvania Avenues – Justice! The security guards are fewer than usual — only one this Saturday at this hour. I stop and ask how Justice is this day and the Black middle-aged, graying, sturdy man shakes his head in silence. I cry out, “it is so sad.” And I reach out to hold him, to be held. We hug tightly – I feel the hardness of an unseen bullet proof vest beneath his navy uniform jacket. He tells me firmly, "Don’t give up, we cannot give up!”

He takes my hands and gently places his over mine with a protective kindness. I lean down and kiss them, and he encourages me with a command, “Run, keep running, do not give up!”

This Black man securing Justice, denied equality much of his life — confronted by racism daily, has the grace to urge this older white woman, “do not give up!”

Keep going. We must.

Mar Roberts lives in Washington, D.C., and Camden.