It sounds a little melodramatic to say that I am grieving running since my silly little stress fracture. But I do miss it. It’s been nearly three months since I last went for a run. Running became a part of me some twenty five years ago. Holy cow have I really been hitting the pavement that long? I started running to clear my head at a time when our marriage was in a rough spot. It helped numb some pain, sweat out toxins, burn calories and allowed me to escape the chaos of fighting kids for at least thirty to forty minutes a couple of times a week. I began to look forward to this activity and increased how often I would head out the door with my running shoes. I found that I almost needed it and that morphed into a habit and eventually a lifestyle.
Several years later when God grabbed ahold of me and Jim started running with me, it morphed again. It turned into a space for my time with God. Jim had taken our running to the next level of racing and doing long distance training. It was no coincidence of the timing. God was showing me that a life with Him is a marathon not a sprint. It became what we did together while still running our own pace and in our own lane. Jim usually would build a playlist for us. Sometimes I chose his and sometimes I picked my own. I enjoy running with Jim near by but it is still my sweet time with God. Earbuds in and music playing. When I forget to charge my device and the battery dies, I see that as a sign from God to talk to Him and listen to the sounds around me. It’s in those miles over the years I have and still do see God.
Whether He shows me a sunrise, a sunset, the smell of sun soaked pine needles, cactus blooming, waves crashing over sea turtles, snowflakes falling on my face, street vendors selling their handmade treasures, a dad stopping to help his little boy who fell off his bike, or a random bumping into someone I was just thinking about, I see Him. I enjoy this time with Him in Nature.
So, I have missed running. Running with God and with Jim and even with Annie, our semi sweet chocolate lab who increases my pace more than I care for. Having just gotten out of my boot a few weeks ago I was timid to walk on it much less run. If I’m honest, this fifty-seven year old body probably has been crying “ Uncle” for some time. I currently don’t have the aches and pains that come from running. Those little things I saw as a trophy are not missed as the running itself is. So I was relieved to hear the doctors orders to not run or do any high impact activity just yet. A bike however, was an acceptable form of cardio that I so desperately needed.
We have a couple of trail bikes with deflated tires and about four moving tags still on them. We cleaned them up last Spring when Covid hit. So, I got my helmet on and rode with a friend. It felt so good to be out. The following week I went again. This time by myself and I’m finding that it has a familiar feel. Like an old friend that moved away and came backing looking a little different.
Today, I went again and I took my music with me. I pushed the pedals through a now vacant parking lot of the large soccer field across from us. No kids playing soccer or parents and coaches screaming, “Kick the ball”. No sea of pop-up tents to shade the large crowd. Just me and the crunching of dead mesquite leaves under the pressure of my tires. I saw a coyote in the distance in the middle of the soccer field. He looked to be sunbathing, no doubt post breakfast. I smelled the wild creosote bushes that I have come to love and makes me feel at home. I saw a few over feed toad-lizards scurry from one bush to anther to avoid my tires. I even saw my first “active’ scorpion. He was about three inches long and moved equally as fast as the toad-lizard. His crab like body sitting maybe half an inch from the ground. His scales on his tail exposed from the way he had it crocked and loaded for whatever prey he was after. And I can say I have never been more thankful to be twenty six inches off the ground myself. Thankful for the speed of my bike to get me out of there faster than any record pace I could run. Thankful Annie wasn’t with me because she would have been way too nosey for her own good. I was even able to get by before any willies had a chance to set in.
I might have to hang up the running shoes. It's like saying goodbye to an old friend and change is hard. This may be my new normal. It looks different than what I’ve loved and was comfortable with. It takes a bit more planning and time. But I still see God in it and He continues to show Himself to me. If I look and pay attention, the view is just as beautiful as ever. There are still sunrises and sunsets and my time with Him is just as sweet, if not better. I’m grateful that I get to do this. What I will need….. a seat bigger than a shoehorn.
Pressing On
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