water

weekend run:  4 miles

on the iPod:  "wonderwall"  -- oasis

With the New York City Marathon some five months away, for the first time in years i'm not training for a race.  I miss running long distances on Saturday morning, I miss thinking about protein and carbs, I miss feeling sore legs.  I miss planning the trip.  I miss being nervous about the weather.  I've been looking for a summer half marathon weekend getaway kinda thing for weeks now to no avail.  Please help me find a half marathon, everybody.  In fact, i'll offer a prize to anyone who can find me a good half marathon. (*Prizes are subject to availability and may change without notice.  All rights reserved.)

Despite the lack of pending starting lines, i've continued lacing up and finding my way down sun-soaked trails and quiet streets.  And even though i'd rather be running knowing that a really great and new race is around the corner, it's been so incredibly therapeutic to simply run for running's sake.  My pace has dropped considerably, my stride has shortened, my mind has wandered, and i've taken the time to fall in love again with the sport that changed my life in the winter of 2010.  It's been exactly what I need.

I'm one of the most fortunate people around and, even though it took quite some time for me to become comfortable in my own skin, when I look back on my life I can't help but realize just exactly how blessed I am.  But life always throws curve balls it seems, and these last few weeks I feel like i've been a batter in the major leagues, swatting aimlessly at pitches from the rookie having his breakout season.  It seems as though when one ball whizzes by,  there's another on it's way and I have no chance of making contact.  So I stand in the box and give it my best.  

Work is always twice as pressing at the end of a school year, the spring season has created allergies and pollen that makes sleep difficult, and my heart has ached for a dear friend who is experiencing a tragic loss.  There's been more than a few afternoons where i've wanted to shut the door, close the blinds, power down the phone, and check out for the rest of the day.  As tempting as that has sounded, i've found my running shoes instead and carved time for short four- and five-milers.  Without afternoon runs on the Skull Creek Trail and Lake Fayetteville, I'm not for sure if the stress, exhaustion, and emotions wouldn't have gotten the best of me.

I've paid particular attention on these runs to how much I enjoy running around water.  It's something that i've never really thought about before, but some of my favorite trails are those that border streams and lakes.  The sound of a stream moving around a corner and over rocks is comforting in it's own way, and there's been more than a few times when i've been so hot and exhausted that i've wanted to rip off my running shoes and get my feet in on the spot.  Running this week got me to thinking about how much water has played a role in some of the greatest memories I have: 

• When I was a grade-school kid we would beg and beg to "play in the hose" on hot summer nights.  Don Puckett always fought this, because inevitably it "tore up the grass".  
• My grandfather would fill up an old oil drum outside of his barn so that my sister and I could play in it.  I think the only reason I remember this is because of a great picture that i've seen over the years.  
• When school was out we'd go to Eden Park Country Club, where we'd swim all day and harass the college-aged lifeguards.  
• In the summers my family would take trips to Branson and go to the great big water park for slides and the wave pool, coming home sunburned and wearing ripped bathing suits.  
• When I got older I was a lifeguarding, which basically equated getting paid to swim all day and eat food from the snack bar.  It was the first job I ever had and still one of my favorites.
• In college we floated the Buffalo River, with it's crystal clear waters and towering rock walls on either side.  No matter how slow the water moved, at some point the canoe would "tump" and we'd have to scramble to grab paddles floating away.
• I can't count the number of trips we've taken to the beaches of the Florida/Alabama panhandle.  There's nothing better than sitting at the water's edge in late afternoon with a cold beer and a good book.  
• And of course there were the afternoons with Abe Lincoln, who would rather do nothing more than chase frisbees and then plop down in the middle of whatever creek was nearby.  

Looking back on it, i've always loved water.  

This morning at St. Paul's I was reminded again how beautiful water can be as a little baby was baptized.  Undeterred by the robes and organ music, the candles and crucifixes, the vows and the singing, all this baby wanted to do was stick his hands in the baptismal font and splash the water.  It was so very sweet to watch him gaze intently at the ripples each swipe created, genuinely fascinated by the holy water inside.

As much as I'd love to find a race sooner than later, things will be okay if I don't.  There may be another curve ball thrown my way, but everything seems to work out.  I'll continue to run along the Skull Creek Trail and Lake Fayetteville, thinking about how lucky I am and remembering all that is great when I look at the water.  And maybe, when it gets particularly hot, I will stop long enough to put my feet in, resting on the bank and feeling the cool water float by.  

Run.