March 27, 2010
It is clear to me that running is in our human cells. It is part of our biology, of our evolutionary imagination. We are part of something much greater than ourselves when we get out of the door and start out down the road, across the field, over the next rise. Each run gives us — gives me — an opportunity to find out something about who I am, what I can do, who I might dream of becoming. Running for me is about finding my way, everyday, to that place where I am/we are, at our best.
It is not always easy. Often it takes sheer bullheadedness to get out there and get the miles. But ask anyone who didn’t run and now does and they will tell you they are better for it. It has been that way for me.
Long ago I ran around the block with my friends, around the track with my team mates, through the woods and fields alone while training for cross country. I ran through the empty morning streets of every town and city I ever went to for work and pleasure. I found my way out of the darkness of addiction by remembering that I had been a runner, that I could be one again.
Rudyard Kipling says that if we should “…fill the unforgiving minute with 60 seconds worth of distance run, yours is the earth and everything that’s in it.”
The runners’ road has been my sanctuary, the best of who I am. Passion for it? Hell, that’s where it begins.
Photo Credit
“Footprint” Mb Hotdog @ Flickr.com. Creative Commons. Some Rights Reserved.
Recent Michael Lebowitz Articles:
- Tarmac Meditations #205: Images in the Sunrise
- Tarmac Meditations #204: Images From the Road - Smoke Risin'
- Tarmac Meditations #203: Images From the Road
- Tarmac Meditations #202: Images From the Road
- Tarmac Meditations: Haiku # 42
