Jen Ramos appears ready.
She’s showing me her sleek blue-and-orange Brooks Launch running shoes, the ones with the double-layer air mesh upper, snug athletic fit, and something called BioMoGo DNA foam cushioning.
I have no idea what that last part means, but the Brooks website assures me it adapts to your stride for a “responsive, energetic ride without extra bulk.”
Good to know.
Ramos, who stands 5-foot-1 and weighs perhaps 110 pounds after a hearty Sunday dinner, is particularly fond of the shoes’ lightweight 7.5 ounces.
There’s also the 10-millimeter “heel-to-toe drop,” which means the heel sits 10 millimeters higher than the toes, helping reduce strain on the Achilles tendon and calf muscles.
“But what I like most is that it locks down the heel and midfoot,” she says.
I must have looked puzzled.
“That means it still leaves nice room for my toes.”
Oh.
Clearly, Ramos knows her running shoes.
And come Thanksgiving morning, she’ll put all that technology to use as she joins hundreds of others at Choctaw Stadium for the 2026 Arlington Turkey Trot.
At 8:30 a.m., runners will take off on the 5K course, their feet pounding the pavement in an assortment of Brooks, Nikes, New Balances, and brands I’ve never heard of. A one-mile fun run/walk starts 30 minutes earlier.
It will be her first race since, well, last Thanksgiving. She doesn’t remember her finishing time, which tells you something about this race.
Despite her impressive knowledge of running shoes, Ramos doesn’t actually run much. Unless she’s crossing a busy street and the little red hand starts flashing.
Which explains why her Brooks, purchased five years ago at The Runner, still look fresh enough to sit on the shelf.
Yet every Thanksgiving, there she is, dressed in running shorts and her long-sleeved race shirt, ready to go. This is what makes the Arlington Turkey Trot such a joy.
It’s a race, sure. Clocks, finish lines, medals, and serious runners who actually know what a heel-to-toe drop is.
Some train year-round, monitor their heart rates, count their miles, and wear shoes like the Adidas Adizero Adios Pro Evo 2, which starts at $500.
Then there are the rest of us, who might show up in a pair of $5.44 Ozark Trail shoes from Walmart, hoping they’ll hold together long enough to get us back to the parking lot.
Some come to set personal records. Others come to set personal records for the longest they’ve gone without sitting down.
And somehow, on Thanksgiving morning, they all belong.
That’s the beauty of this thing.
The Arlington Turkey Trot is a traditions that no longer needs explanation. It’s just what people do.
Families gather. Friends reunite. Parents push strollers. Grandparents walk at their own pace. Some wear turkey hats. Others sport colorful socks. For some families, the Turkey Trot is as much a Thanksgiving ritual as turkey and dressing.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re 8 or 85. Whether you finish in 16 minutes or take your sweet time. Whether you’ve trained for six months or your last serious workout involved carrying groceries from the car.
You show up, move, laugh.
And, yes, you might even walk away with a medal.
But this annual gathering matters for another reason, one that reaches well beyond the finish line.
The Turkey Trot is sponsored by The One Step Foundation, a nonprofit that presents it through work that includes combating childhood obesity and supporting educational opportunities for girls. It mainly supports the Miracle League of Arlington, an organization that provides sports opportunities for those with special needs
So, while hundreds make their way through Arlington on Thanksgiving morning, they’re also helping others experience the kind of inclusion, connection and happiness that too often gets taken for granted.
Which brings us back to that word.
Joy.
Not speed. Not distance. Not winning.
Joy.
Maybe that’s why the Turkey Trot keeps drawing people back. For a few hours, Arlington becomes a city of runners, walkers, stroller-pushers, turkey-hat wearers and people who probably should have broken in their shoes sometime before Thanksgiving morning.
Nobody much cares who finishes first, except perhaps the person who finishes first.
The rest will collect their medals, pose for photographs, exchange hugs and head home to sweat out a Cowboys game. And next Thanksgiving, they’ll do it all over again.
Jen Ramos certainly will.
Her Brooks will be another year older, still looking suspiciously new, their BioMoGo DNA foam cushioning ready for another 3.1 miles of glory.
She probably won’t remember her finishing time.
But she’ll remember being there.
And really, isn’t that the point?
Kenneth Perkins has been a contributing writer for Arlington Today for more than a decade. He is a freelance writer, editor and photographer, and teaches Journalism and Writing at Bowie High School.
