May 10, 2010 On June 27 at Alton Baker Park, get ready to light out, vamoose, skedaddle, make tracks, split, hotfoot it, scram, leg it, sprint, race, dart, rush, dash, hasten, hurry, scurry, scamper, bolt, fly, gallop, charge, hurtle, speed, zoom, or jog, trot, tear, pelt, scoot, belt, zip, whip, bomb, hightail it, barrel, flee, […]
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…
Knowing that when a friend is running out beyond his comfort zone, we are together wherever else we may be. It is always one step, then another — a journey from where we were to wherever we are going that enriches all of us.
A runner who isn’t running contemplates what the day will hold and feels an urge to run with the ghosts of his past.
A runner on the edge of winter, ponders the other side of love, and finds clarity “just a little futha” down the road.
A runner thinks about a friend who may be dying, and gains insight from the meditative practice of putting one foot in front of another.
Out running in the early morning, Michael’s feet move forward as his mind moves back.
A quiet early morning run. A runner’s meditations. A river. A moment slipping past, almost uncaught.
“When I run,” writes Michael, “I put in a lot of time thinking about how things are going. Sometimes I don’t think about time and distance. When I get home I have taken to writing some of it down.”
We do not often speak of the Wall, of leg cramps, hunger, rain, or hills in reverent tones. In each of us lives a desire to be challenged, to keep on, to stay in when the road gets hard.