Running Stories 3

It was my first 'big' race, attended by thousands, I have never before seen so many people in one place. They were all runners too, there was a spot were I could see about 2 miles up the road and it was packed with people running. I ran my 10mi race on the 26th. I completed it in my best time - 1:23:31. Previous record was 1:30. I am very pleased. Here come the tales...

We started the race, there were so many people it took about 5 minutes for the whole procession to start running. Within the first mile, (mostly) ladies were pulling off tights and skorts behind trees and bushes, some way too close the the road. Yes, running chics pee in the woods! HA! A mile or two later I saw the first wave of guys, then the port-a-pottie queues. There was still a long way to go.

By mile 3 it was getting hot, even the non-sweaters had wet spots on their apparel, I am glad we (runners) mostly do not care, because some of those sweat stains form the most well...'NO WAY' kind of stains on clothes. I did not stay long, I passed them.

I ran behind a skort so short it was sucked up in the runners orifice her bum was hanging out, and she plugged on. I had to pass her.

I ran behind a wildly swinging leg in 'you-shan't-miss-this' yellow shoes. I had to pass her, I could not focus.

I ran behind a strangely bobbing ponytail I wanted to yank it, thankfully I restrained myself. I focused on my feet and passed her too.

I will say little of the snorting guy, (that may have been me), the guy whose sweat constantly flew off his body, the many women I called 'Sports bra meets Almost Shorts' and all the unnamed gaits after I ran out of names; most memorable being (several) High Steppers, Hot Pavement, Wanna Dance?, Mile long Strider and Oh this hurts!

I enjoy running alone much better. I can fully enjoy my run, touch all the guardrail posts without feeling crazy, yell to my war movie music when appropriate without scaring anyone and I can run backwards and sideways. Running with a group so huge I could not break away from the crowd had me straining to attain that impossible feat. I picked off interesting runners to pass and I finished the race. My cheer squad said I was smiling. I am glad I have perfected my grimace of pain.

13.1mi in two weeks, I'll rest my soles for another day or two.

Heroes

Many years ago I was a competitive public speaker in a high school circuit from a land far far away. I loved it! I was a lot more shy then , but I could talk to a crowd. Sometimes they got me, sometimes I lost them, I enjoyed both. One contest my prepared speech was entitled "Heroes" I deplored the worship of music, movie and TV celebrities. Praised Nelson Mandela, Steve Biko (yes I was in Africa!) and such - people who not only lived for something, but where willing to die for others' benefit.

I was reminded last weekend of this revolutionary way of living, being others centered. As I read a story book written on this man's experiences I long to see what will be the end of my days. Life is what you make it. Everyday; but the view at the end is (hopefully) fuller and more picturesque. Right now I am seeing only a part of the fractal, it looks like Chaos, but Oh to see the whole...Right now there is the longing to live all to Christ usually overwhelmed by the desire to feed the dogs, cater to me and wallow in never realised good intentions. Yet still I rise see. I look forward to the end because with every swirl of my darkness is a splash of Light and Love brighter than the last. The darkness will drown.

I read his stories and I know from experience, all our heroes learned through pain, fell to failure but did not stay down. That is what makes a good story, the guy would not stay down, until it killed him, and his Light burned brighter still. His story is told everywhere. I will not stay down.

Running Stories 2

I like animals, until I started living with two cats. One of them smells horrid, he pukes too for no apparent reason. It is a bad situation. The other is not bad, I could actually like her. I had dogs all my life, I like dogs; big active monsters. I grew up in a place where our dogs were guards. You did not pet a neighbour's dog lest they bite off your hand. I have not adjusted to the 'friendly' Valley dogs. Yes, because they are so socialised, we told them if they attacked people they would be put down and being the understanding demi-humans they are they comprehended every word.

Beware of farm dogs when you run! They are sneaky beasts. On one run I saw a dog in a horse. I knew it would make it out of the pen so I slowed down. Doggy ran and barked until I stopped running, then it stopped and walked with me. I patted its head and it headed to the lawn. I decided to keep running - doggy did not like it, barked me to a stop. I walked past and ran when it turned its head. Whew.

On another run I was running in farmland listening to music. I heard nothing out of the ordinary, saw nothing I just turned and saw a black dog in full sprint headed to me. His shoulder hair was raised (he was serious about this) and he started growling, teeth bared as he bore down on me. I stopped and stood with my arms at akimbo, (I figure it makes me look bigger, bearded lizards do it and get away with it!) He 'screeched' to a halt and turned and returned home. I shudder to think what would have happened if I had not seen him. I am sure his owners know he is a friendly dog.

I do not want to fight some kid's dog! So I will continue to keep away from your friendly farm dogs. I am contemplating pepper spray...bwahahahaa!

Forever

I attended 3 boarding schools between 5th grade and high school. As mentioned in prior musements I loved some and hated one. I am listening to a song on radio, on point with my plan for this note - uncanny. I love moments like this. In boarding school I lived with my parents' sacrifice in mind most of the time. They reminded me of it enough, every letter I read from them spoke of the financial strain my schooling was. I was told to work hard and do well. When I went home for weekends or holidays I heard (and saw) this more. I attended one school in particular where I ate better than I ever would at home, servants cleaned up after me, after lunch rest and more! Yet in all this, it was not home. I was there, I enjoyed it, but I did not belong and I knew it.

My recurrent reference to death has led some to label me suicidal, I am not. I am too scared to hurt myself. If I were to come up with a suicide plan, it will have to be foolproof - above that I have been told from a trusted source my death is not an individual event. It will hurt people I love, people I do not want to hurt anymore than I do or have done to this point.

I will live forever. My last breath will be as one waking from a dream - separate worlds, but alive in both. One more real than the other, but both valid and important. My knowledge of the next life and my desire to live it keeps me longing for its beginning. If there is no eternity, then what we do now is all important, but to no end. If there is nothing but darkness beyond, then why bother? If there is eternity, then our life now means less than we make it out to be. 80 next to a thousand is small, 80 next to a million is tiny, next to a thousand million is not worth mentioning, next to eternity... really why bother? Why should we go on?

This is when boarding school hit me; while at school my work prepared for my time at home. I worked hard to please my parents, if I had failed they would love me still, but would be displeased. We worked hard at school for our return home, that was our focus. When I cleaned toilets I thought to myself, "I do this in my mother's house out of love. I do it now because I am forced, once this term is done, I am going to my mother's house. She will hug me in the hallway to welcome me home. Just a little longer, I will not clean these hated toilets."

I hope I have not lost you. Boarding school is this life. It is not my favourite place because I know when this is done I will experience better. Home is Heaven, where I long to see my Father smile and say, "Well done, good and faithful servant, come in to my joy." If I slack in this life, my Father still loves me, still welcomes me home, but with nothing to show Him for it. I want more than anything to see Him smile.

I speak of and long for death because life stinks here. And so I will keep my eyes peeled for the next life. So that as long as I live this life I am striding towards victory now for later, for my Father's pleasure, and His gift forever.

Running Stories 1

I ran today, the longest distance I have ever run. I saw so much, let my mind inhale the fresh country air (which means cow and turkey poop! HA!) I live proximal to many old order Mennonites. Look them up, because all I know is hearsay - they believe technology is hell bound, though some of them have amazing farm machinery (not sure if they are the no-car guys.) Blast! I spilled the beans; they do not drive cars. Those that do drive (another sect of the denomination) will only drive 'black bumper' cars i.e. no chrome. So this Mennonite girl I love drives a BMW!

Anyway, old order Mennonites get around on bicycles and horse drawn buggies. I saw today, an old old lady riding a full size tricycle in her yard. I figured/fancied that she is now too old to get far on the road, but because she has ridden all her life she will not let her age stop her. I smiled.

Many times it seems that aging takes away our ability to do the things we love most in life. Runners with bad knees, cyclists losing their sense of balance, quilters with arthritis, bibliophiles with diminished sight (oh and hearing too, in case they decide to get books on tape!) And thinkers getting Alzheimer's or something. Iris was a good, but sad movie on that note, a brilliant witty teacher (and I think author) slowly losing her brain...literally.

I want to be like the old old old order Mennonite lady, to find a way to continue doing the things I love as long as I can. We all desire to stop on our own terms. Life will not allow it, that's just how Life is. I hope I can live in my head and constantly try to run away from it, only to miss it on the rare occasions I succeed. I hope I continue to be physically active in my autumn, still read good books, listen to music, watch movies and love the people I am in the 'room' with.