on the iPod: "city of blinding lights" -- U2
The early mornings of September continue to grace runners with near-perfect conditions, as Northwest Arkansas wakes to a serenity that engulfs not only the sore legs and blistered feet of hard training, but also the weary spirit of a long work week. Every foot fall seems to slowly and methodically melt away the stress and strain of daily life into a real sense of living in the moment; a sense of enjoying the abundant gifts we're given. This weekend's run was exactly that for me: a reminder that life is beautifully sweet in it's simplicity, and that we are all part of a greater humanity that is larger than ourselves. It's a good, good thing.
The NYC Marathon is six weeks out, which means the training runs are long and focused. An 18 miler is a precursor to at least two 20 milers, one of which should probably be a few miles longer if possible. When I first started distance running about three years ago, I remember the aura that I attached to running 18 miles. That number, for whatever reason, stuck in my head as the distance that would let me know if I was real or not. If I had what it takes. I think it's now become my favorite distance in training, because it's just enough to make me work hard physically, but doesn't require the mental stamina of going 26.2. I crave the push that it demands, and the subsequent exhaustion that it prescribes.
After taking a complete break last weekend because of rainy skies and strained foot tendons, I knew this run was going to be great, even with Mrs. Murie gone on a camping trip for the weekend. It didn't disappoint. In fact, as much as I love running with her, I was happy to head out solo for a change, as it would give me time to think and muse over NYC. The fact that i'll be running in the world's largest marathon is so exhilarating, but also difficult to fathom right now. Running a solo 18 miler would be the perfect way to wrap my head around the immenseness of the event. I've always been comfortable spending time alone, having lived quite a bit of my adult life solo. Friends and family are never far away, but i'm good with the quiet and calm that comes with only having self. So for me, running solo is just as good as running with friends.
Taking the previous week off was a smart move, because my foot held out like a champ and gave me no trouble whatsoever. I found a pace that felt right and headed south as the sun rose behind me, illuminating the wetness of morning in tall grasses and trees on both sides of the trail. I became lost in my own consciousness and didn't realize how quickly the passing mileage was adding up. Being solo helps focus on the physiological components of running, like breathing and heart rate, making it almost a given to feel aware of every moving part of the body. I love when that happens.
Continuing through downtown and campus, I thought quite a bit about what my life was like before I found running, and how things have changed so much for the better since I first laced up and ran to the end of my street. Outwardly I was a pretty solid guy, going through the motions of being a twentysomething like everybody else, but on the inside I was a wreck. I had no direction in terms of who I was or where I was going. I just did the basics to get by and not draw attention to myself, good or bad. Those days are long gone, but not forgotten.
Heading back for the final seven mile stretch, I couldn't help but think how many other people might have had the same sort of experience as me. How many of us awake one morning, and for whatever reason, change our basic outlook on life for the better? The catalyst is probably different for all of us -- running, faith, a relationship, a child-- but the end result is the same: we feel more human and more alive on the other side.
It never fails that when I run marathons and half-marathons I'll have a relatively profound human experience that I forget about until the moment in which it happens, but is always the same. Perhaps it's due to the adrenaline of the moment, or because I love running so very much, but in the middle of the race I look around and realize i'm surrounded by people from all walks of life. People that are completely unlike me. They are wives, they are atheists, they are millionaires, they are artists. They have kids, they watch hockey, they drive SUV's, they have brown skin, they love cooking. Other than being runners, we have nothing in common. In that moment, it becomes evident to me that I have never seen these people before and likely will never see them again. But I still feel a very deep and real connection to these people. A human connection. The feeling is overwhelming and i'm taken aback with emotion. Tears well up in my eyes as we all run forward toward lives that are, at the same time, both universal and completely different.
I wasn't alone on yesterday's 18 miler, because I am never alone. We are never alone. At any given time and on any given day, there are people just like us, having the same joys and sorrows that we have, the same smiles and laughs, the same triumphs and heartaches. We are all human beings, regardless of where we live or what we look like. Regardless of our faith or who we love. Regardless of ability. Regardless of anything. And I truly believe that with all of my heart and soul.
I want to make the New York City Marathon more than just a race and have decided to do something about it. It's inexcusable that humanity lives so incredibly stratified, that Western culture is blessed with an abundance of resources that make our standard of living so exceptionally high, while those living elsewhere barely scrape by to ensure their own survival. Countries in Africa are particularly hurting to provide the basic needs for their people. It's a shame on all of us.
Shoes For Africa is an amazing organization founded by runners that is dedicated to supporting global initiatives to provide education and health care where it's needed most. In 1995 they began sending slightly used shoes to Kenya in an effort to not only fight hookworm infection, but also to promote the sport of running. Fast forward 17 years later and they are still going strong. These guys are the real deal and they've got the tangible evidence to back up every dollar that's been given to them.
Their most current project is the building of a children's hospital in eastern Kenya, where one in seven children will die before their 5th birthday. The hospital will be a teaching campus as well, so that local Kenyan adults can go to school and help provide health care to the rest of the country. This is only one step in ending the cycle of extreme poverty that encompasses the region, but it's so very important.
We are all humans, and we share a collective understanding based in love and compassion for one another. I'm so very thankful for the people in my life that love me and support everything that I do. I'm so very thankful to live the life I lead, laced up and running forward. I'm so very thankful for all that i've been given, and I want to give back. Do you?
If you want to support global health care that is accessible to everybody, click the link below and see what you think. If so, please accept my most humblest of thanks that I can offer and know that it means a lot to me. If not, no worries, find what makes you feel connected and jump in with both feet. Just remember that we are never alone, because we are all human beings. We are always together.
Run.
http://www.shoe4africa.org/charity/civicrm/contribute/pcp/info?reset=1&id=460
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