What I've learned from running

I've never been an athlete. Well, not really. The thing is, I'm not naturally gifted in anything that requires coordination or speed. But I enjoy getting sweaty. I enjoy aching muscles (mostly) and I enjoy a good workout almost as good as a good piece of chocolate cake.

Over the years I've tried many different sports, from ballet to basketball. I'm always mediocre. Just good enough to get noticed once in a while. Never really good enough to perform. But I've kept going, kept trying new things, kept up my athleticism.

Running has been a common thread in my athletic adventures. I started running in Junior High when I was disappointed that I had a poor grade in a class. I ran 2 miles to calm myself down. It worked. I started running often then, not far or fast, just often. I ran with my dog in my neighborhood and the track at school. In high school, I swam for several hours a day for swim team, but on the weekends I would put on my sneakers and run my dog to the elementary school down the street.

In college, I experimented again through a host of sports, collegiate cycling being the most challenging and unique yet. I enjoyed all of them, but I still ran. In my senior year, I justified running as my favorite sport because of it's cost effectiveness (no fancy equipment required), it's mobility (you can run anywhere), and it's efficiency (running can give you a good work out such in a short period of time). I ran 4 miles each day in the wheatfields of my college town. So beautiful. I loved it, it was peace when I felt stressed; hope when I felt hopeless; and it gave me a sense of accomplishment.

However, after college, I took about 6 months off running because of various transitions, new jobs, new city, traveling etc. Now I am back. I suppose "back" is a relative word because "back" generally means you return to something. Often, going back to something implies a regression or a returning to an already learned skill. Not so with running. Now I am back to running after a period of absence means I am back to breathing heavily and feeling my feet plod along after only the first mile. It means my heart feels like it's leaping out of my chest, my lungs burning. Going back to running feels like it's going back to something I've never done before.

But this is what running has taught me the most: endurance is half the battle. When you feel tired after the first 1/4 mile, it doesn't mean that your fatigue will last the entire run. Often it means, push yourself another lap and you'll feel better. Or it means push yourself the entire run and next time, this will be so much easier. Last week on my Saturday run, I gave myself a distance, a reachable goal. I ran twice that distance. I felt my spirit saying: you can do it. You can reach it. This can be done, it can be learned, it can be fought for.

So it is with the mind. So it is with the spirit. Running any race requires endurance. It requires gumption, stick-with-it-ness, and a don't-back-down attitude. A good runner knows when to rest, and when to pick up the pace. She knows how to train and that the next time she runs, she'll run faster, farther and better. Practicing this endurance, these character traits, practices my heart, soul, and mind for my work in my neighborhood. It prepares me with insight that when things are tough, I can keep going. It teaches me that not giving up is the key to finishing the run. We never get anywhere if we let go of our hope: hope for a better neighborhood, a better family, a better self. So we keep on keeping on with hope, keep on keeping on with endurance. We know there will be set backs and tiredness. But that the next time we run we will run faster, farther, and better.

The Meaning of Patience

Not giving up, even when we want to. Saying no to a tempting offer. Waiting even when we want to go. Finding joy in what we have now. Practicing the presence of God, when sometimes we'd rather just sleep. Walking 2 miles to work everyday, though it would be easier to purchase a car. Finally telling my best friends, "I'm not doing well. I hate LA." For me, this is patience a steady, slow process that allows myself to feel sad, angry, upset, but still hopeful. And I wait, continually for new insight, new orientation. Lost in the dessert, sometimes you want to stay at an oasis. I fight on for a city.

More on this later. Sorry friends for not writing often. It's been a sad round of weeks.