The Running Journey

I'm considering writing an entry for a contest to get on the cover of Runners World.  One of the entry requirements is a 200 word essay on a running break through moment.  Even if I decide ultimately not to enter the contest, I thought it might be fun to try to write the essay.  Here's what I came up with.

They say a journey of 10,000 miles begins with a single step.  For me it began with a single decision.  In 2007 my doctor looked at my blood test results and gave me a simple choice; exercise or medication for the rest of my life.  At the age of 46 I was unwilling to turn my life over to chemistry.  The doctor recommended a very simple exercise philosophy; breathing hard and sweating for 30 minutes a day, ...every day -whatever it takes.  And so my journey began on January 1, 2008.  In 6 months my cholesterol and blood sugar were back to normal and I was hooked on running.  There is a dog-eared page in my journal that I refer back to when I feel I'm not running well.  It says "Ran an entire mile without stopping".  Over time and with guidance and inspiration from my friends in the Early Air Running Club, my milage increased and I started racing.  At this point in my journey covers a little over 1700 miles each year.  On Memorial Day weekend 2016 I finished my first Marathon.  Running probably saved my life but it took time and it took making a decision.

Wow, 200 words go by quickly.  Took many edits to get it down. It's not perfect.  I could edit it more but I think I'll move on. It was worth the effort though.  It was sort of my version of a crossword puzzle on a Sunday afternoon.

Train Junk

It's interesting to see the world from a train.  Along the way, through the countryside there are beautiful vistas, farms and lakes to enjoy.  then, as the train makes its way though towns you are greeted with a different perspective.

People dump stuff they don't want to deal with behind the trees near the tracks.  Old rusty cars and junk appliances are common.  There is graffiti scrawled across almost any flat structure.  The ornate words and pictures could be the city's subconscious thoughts, unseen and unintelligible to the conscious part of the city but containing messages of frustration and hopelessness that yearn to be communicated.

There are abandoned camps where the disenfranchised and the nomadic wanderers have perhaps stayed over for a day or two before continuing their journey to find rest and comfort.  A quest that, for them, may be in vain for reasons I cannot begin to understand.

Then we approach a train station where appears new and clean. But there is something else.   A cacophony of noise and motion that is invisible but penetrating. There is a weight, a stress, a heaviness of being that comes from travel that is almost tangible in the station.  You can see its weight on the shoulders of people leaving one train and headed for the next. 

Through this thick fog of marginally controlled pandemonium the calm light of simplicity and rest cannot seem to penetrate.  The junk by the  tracks still sit awaiting cleanup, the graffiti grows and colors more surface, the homeless continue to wander and the travelers still carry their burdens.  What makes it this way?

I wonder if God is on a train that moves through my soul, seeing the things I prefer to ignore.  Aware of the junk hidden behind the trees, understanding the meaning of the graffiti that I fail to acknowledge, longing to lift the unseen burdens that I carry and to give me space to rest.