So many, many things to think about. Finishing classes in less than four months (and then??). My friend’s best friend passed away a few weeks ago, after a six month wrestling match with leukemia. I went to El Salvador; it changed me for life. Fr. Greg came to BC to read from his new book. I continue to wonder if I want to be a Catholic, if I want to be a chaplain, and if I want to be a Catholic chaplain. Highs and lows. Lots to think about. Run it out, girlfriend. Run it out.
And so that’s what I do, because when all else fails, when I am certain of absolutely nothing, when those feelings of confusion, impatience, faithlessness, and loneliness creep up on me, the one thing I know I can count on to lift me up is running.
I wake up early on Sunday morning and am having breakfast and reading the paper by 6:30 a.m. I have always loved this time of day. It’s my time. Though I spend a significant amount of time on my own, there is something very different about the solitude of the early morning. It is solitude by choice. It is peace. It is the feeling of knowing that while much of the city slumbers, I delight in the pristine morning light, cool air, stillness, and quiet.
Seven miles should do the trick and as I set out I mentally plot a tentative route, knowing I’ll abandon it in favor of hidden sidestreets, hills, and detours. Knowing that today the mileage doesn’t matter enough for me to surrender the luxury of losing myself in the reverie of feet pounding pavement, taking me where they will, leading me up hills, carrying me mile after mile. The sky is clear and almost technicolor. Crocuses have peeped out overnight. After the deluge of last week’s rain storm, the metaphor of new life is more than noticeable. I think about that for a while and it brings me new life. I have felt so jaded and spent the past few weeks; knowing that life will rise again from between sidewalk cracks and walkways, under shrubs and trees, and in small gardens…this is life-giving to me. The winter ice that has clouded my heart and soul begins to melt.
I haven’t run for almost two weeks and settling into a rhythm is like finding my way into the embrace of an old friend. It’s comfortable and reassuring; I feel at home in my own body, peaceful and happy.
Pierre Teilhard de Chardin was right.