Meditative Running Thought

After peering through my kitchen window on Saturday at a ten-ish year-old boy running down the street, his free yet perfect gait has been tracking my thoughts ever since. "Man, that boy is fast," I told myself. I zeroed in on his legs which were fully engaged from hips to shoes in a full all out run. Not a sprint though. Above the hips, he was nothing but spirit riding through the breeze. Likely, he was innocently running home for dinner or whatever little boys run so freely home for.

The mental snapshot of this little boy has me yearning to run like him. I really, really want to run with child-like innocence. To let my legs completely go and my spirit riding out the run with pure enjoyment. It has dawned on me, however, that my earnest desire will remain unfulfilled as long as I hold onto fear.

I admit that fear is the most natural aspect of any run I set out on, particulary as I'm training for my first ever half marathon. As I dress for a run, each piece of clothing and gear feels like putting on and preparing for a tragically painful death. I experience every physical form of anxiety whether my training day is a 3-miler, speed run, or long Saturday run. The hardest step is opening my front door. Once I'm outside, I'm commited to whatever the run will throw at me.

The one and only thing I fear in any and all runs is hurt. I don't mean injury. I mean hurt that comes from taking a leap of faith and receiving loss and/or failure in return. There is the awfully inevitable pain of risk. I am so afraid of going to the edge, let alone leaping, and not being able to come back. Translated, if I run like I did when I was my seventeen-year-old self, will I be good enough, or will the past sixteen years hunt me down and slash my innocence?

This week, I am training with heavy thoughts of surrendering to the fear of running. My spiritual inclination is to lay my running fear at the cross as I have other journeys I hold myself accountable for.

Obviously, other areas of my life can use a dose of innocence. I'd love just one successful and functional day with an upright and fully engaged gait, my spirit riding on top of the breeze.