I decided to make running my Lenten discipline this year. With the hopes that it would allow me true space to meditate and listen to the spirit.
My runs have been shorter than I wanted, mostly occurring after 10pm and usually not much further than around the block. But, they have happened everyday. Everyday I think to myself Good couldn't possibly teach me anything in this short time, but I have been surprised to find something at least a little meaty to chew on each time. Here are a few of them:
Go faster! Many times I start my run with the mindset of just getting it over. Why do we push things to go faster? Why do I need to rush? As I run, I find myself embracing the journey, reminding myself that you cannot rush the things that matter. Love. Faith. Hope. God is outside of time.
Carrying weight. Running with a weight is a burden. One day I ran to the store with my purse to pick up some medicine for the kids. It wasn't bad for the first block. Then it got obnoxious around my neck, digging into my skin. "Classic. Faith is a journey. What weights are keeping me from running freely? Why am I carrying them" Pondering this, I thought how, like my purse, I usually have a good reason for all the hindrances I lug around. I think of the days I look ridiculous going to the beach with the boys -- strollers, blankets, snacks, clothes, sandtoys. In the spiritual / emotional realm these weights might look like to-do lists, life goals, diets, self-help books. What if I just went to the beach without all the crap? What if I just came to God as I am?
Running into the wind. Another day, it was really windy. The cold wind chilled my bones and felt impossible to run into. Like swimming upstream. I thought about the difference of carrying a weight vs running into the wind. "Well. We can put down weights, but we can't do anything about the wind." I turned course and ran between buildings. I found paths that sheltered me from the wind when I could. Then I turned home and ran with the wind. We can't change the wind, but we can change our response. When life gets difficult, friends and family can serve as a block to soften the harshness of the storms in life. What if I lean into hardship rather than fight against it?
There is more there. It was late. I was super tired. I started jogging slowly. I found that there was more there. I ran a little faster. I found a continual surge pushing me to go faster and faster. Running every day is starting to work on my body. Persistence and discipline creates a reserve. I find faith to be that way. When I discipline myself to really open myself to God, I find that there is more there. I have a bigger tank to approach life with grace, love, and patience.
Afraid to run in the dark. Dogs, shadowy figures. ... a woman running alone at night. A few times I've gotten a little nervous. I've thought about what would happen to my kids if something happened to me. Should I be running in the dark? Life is not safe. We use judgement. Faith calls us to make risks. What risks does faith call me to take? What ways am I called to protect? What is the balance?
Shoes. So this is pretty funny, but some days I've just run out the door barefeet or in my socks. I've noticed the difference of running with and without shoes. Running barefoot I have a new connection to the ground. But running with shoes I feel more confident to run faster that I won't step on something or get hurt. Made me start thinking about things we put on to build our confidence or not get hurt. What is my relationship with vulnerability?
I've been wanting to write blogs on each of these runs and the mediations but so far life has been uncooperative.... it's lent. Hoping I can find time. It's been a tremendous amount of insight in bite sizes. Feeling like lent has really started to creep into my bones. I'm always excited at first. Around this time, I start getting ready to push the fast forward button. Isn't there another way? Do I always have to wrestle brokenness, pain, fear and uncertainty? I get a little nervous. What if Easter doesn't come? What if life just ends with darkness?
Faith. A trust in the unseen. In the dark days of lent the promise of Easter can feel far away. I dare to trust.
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