Running

I was sitting by the lake a few days ago watching the kids at swimming lessons; very early swimming lessons, 8 am.  Another friend was seated on the bench next to me and we were chatting, keeping an eye on the kids, and watching the teenagers in the Bronze Medallion lesson completing their 500 m distance swim.  I commented that what amazed me was those swimmers in the Olympics who swim distances of 10km.  My friend remarked that he simply couldn't understand why anyone would take part in a repetitive motion for such a length of time that has absolutely no spiritual or intellectual purpose.  Perhaps he was being hyperbolic.  Nonetheless, I was amazed by his words; they came as a bit of a revelation.  And I wondered if this is how many people regard those who run, bike, swim or work out on a regular basis.

Dave and I both run.  He is the far better runner and I am the plodder.  However, to my credit, I am the dedicated plodder.  Since the age of 18 I have more or less run 5km daily.  I take breaks during pregnancies when I change the run to a walk, but I keep going come rain or shine.  My daily run is a vital part to my day.  In fact, one of the reasons I hate staying out late is that I know that I might not be able to run the next day.  Honestly, my body never looks forward to my runs, but my mind certainly does.

Please pay attention to this part.  My running is not a natural outgrowth of a youth spent physically active.  Until I was 16, I was always overweight.  The one time I went to a track and field day was sometime in junior high when I managed to qualify for ball throw.  (I think that my qualification had more to do with lack of competition than athletic ability.)  My two aims in attending the track meet were to get the day off school and to buy chips at the canteen.  In fact, when they called the athletes to the field to compete in the ball throw, I made my way out of the stands, threw the ball approximately two feet, burst out laughing and returned to my chips.  Just to drive this point home:
the only award I ever received in the yearly Canada Fitness Test was the made-up one:  Participaction.  Ha!  The one time that I completed the required endurance run was in the annual dream that I would have as the Canada Fitness Test loomed closer.  Have I painted an adequate picture of the non-athletic child?  Good, let's move on.

Not only does this run allow me not to rigorously count calories, but it also has tremendous psychological benefits.  Those who know me well know that I suffer from what my father refers to as pernicious anxiety.  There, I said it.  My mother-in-law says that all women worry, but I don't think that she quite understands the lengths to which my mind can go.  My greatest anxieties revolve around sleep and health.  My sister, a fellow hypochondriac, jokes that our gravestones will read:  See, I told you I was sick.  Which brings me back to running.  Running, walking and being outdoors literally keep me sane.  When I feel exhausted, a run usually picks me up; when I can't stand the kids anymore, taking them for a walk is often the answer; when my mind is spiralling downward toward
despair, a run almost always pulls me a little closer to hope.

Thus, when this friend remarked that he had no understanding as to why people would needlessly exercise, I was amazed.  I sat speechless for a moment and then began to explain what I do on my runs.  I told him that I pray throughout all of my runs:  rosaries, chaplets and prayers of intercession.  The constant prayer keeps my mind occupied, helps the distances to move a little faster, and prevents my imagination from wandering down some of the more dangerous and well-trod pathways of my mental landscape.  More over, I offer up the painful hills and the long slogs when I just want to quit.  The suffering itself becomes a prayer.  My runs have taught me how to persevere and how to remain disciplined.  In fact, outside of labour and delivery, running has been the sole activity that has taught me both how to persevere and that I can persevere.  In essence, the discipline of daily physical activity lends itself easily to the discipline of a life of virtue.

I recounted this beach conversation to Dave, telling him that I often measure runs in rosaries:  2.5 km turnaround is one rosary.  He responded that, besides the possibility for prayer, a run is always an opportunity for contemplation.  I won't wax poetic about the smell of the pine plantation as I run past on a warm summer afternoon or the mist rising off the lake, but I will say that it is almost impossible not to think about one's life (or one's God) in a little more depth when one's body is engaged in a monotonous activity.  Running can become the background for practising the presence of God.

I'm not writing this in the hope that all readers will be propelled out of their seats and into their running shoes.  I'm not writing this to sound virtuous and unattainable.  My body is not built for running; I have never been small nor particularly well disciplined.  Therefore, if I can do it, you really can to:  run, walk, bike, swim, just get out there and move a little.  Your body, your mind and your spirit will be so thankful that you did.  Moms, daily exercise is really one of the best excuses and avenues toward getting that precious time by yourself.  What more can I say?  I just got off the treadmill and am sticky with sweat.  Today, I measured my run with one rosary and two youtube talks by Fr. Robert Barron.  And 500 calories - just an added perk.