The Next Bold Move – Me Vs. The World

I am floating right now. Not really in a state above or below water. I have things I need to do, things I want to do and things I need and want to do but end up taking a nap when it’s time to do them. The question “What now?” runs through my mind like a hamster on a wheel. I try to ignore it, exhaust it, forget it, but it’s always there spinning away. To keep myself from spinning or becoming paralyzed I run. I run in the same area I have always run in San Diego, along the dirt roads of Mission Trails Park, up Mt Fortuna and down the other side. Some days there are hikers, dirt bikers, the city water people working on construction sites. Other days nobody. Some days I stand at the top and scream at the top of my lungs. Other days I close my eyes and revel in the sunlight on my face for a few moments before I continue. I have an iPod, but I only use it when I can hear the nearby freeway. When I get into the dips of the valley and the civilized world disappears I turn it off and listen to the world the way it should be.

I stated before that I don’t meditate, I don’t know how. That is a lie. I meditate every morning. I just never looked at it like that before. I looked up the definition of meditation out of curiosity today:

1. to engage in thought or contemplation; reflect.
2. to engage in transcendental meditation, devout religious contemplation, or quiescent spiritual introspection.

I had to take some time off after the last marathon to nurse an injury I had ignored for months prior to the race. During the San Francisco Nike Woman’s Marathon I dropped my iPod at mile 19. It was October and much colder than the warm San Diego fall. I did not have appropriate clothes for the weather and the cold wind made my muscles tighten up worse than usual. When I leaned over to pick up the iPod I tore my already inflamed hamstring. The pain went from my leg to my knee to my sciatic nerve over the next few weeks. I didn’t know when I would be able to run again, but after a marathon it usually takes a month or two to recover and realize running doesn’t equal pain and misery anyways. In December I tried to run and the pain was still there. I went to see a physical therapist. She told me I should try lower impact exercise. I laughed and said, “I’m a runner. That’s what I do.” She understood and we did some strength training and I took 3 more months off.

When you start to run after taking a break it’s like the first time again. The first time you realized that you love it and can run forever and ever and ever. Just running like Forrest Gump. After a break you remember what it is like to go to that place that is neither physical nor spiritual. That place where your mind is empty and your body is free. I can’t explain it, but if you have ever ran you probably know what I’m talking about. Training routines and personal goals get in the way of this tranquility. It’s been awhile since I ran just to run.

This morning I woke up at 6:30. It’s Sunday and last night instead of drinking at the Sod, I visited with old friends, read a little, went to bed before 12:30. I wanted to beat the mid morning sun and weekend crowds of hikers and bikers on my trails. If running is my meditation it only seems natural that I should do it alone on empty roads.

It was a cold and gloomy morning. Perfect running weather. I started off on the rocky trail not sure if it was going to be a good run day or not despite the weather. To change things up a bit I took my normal run route backwards. This allows me to run downhill first and I figured I could use some adrenaline to get me going.

I run for 45 minutes uphill just for the twelve, gravity-defying minutes downhill. Going down the air hits my face as I stretch my legs out and pound my feet into the ground to keep my footing. There is a split second when both my feet float above ground – flying. I’m free from the constraints and laws of physics. There are moments when I lose my footing, or gravity pulls my upper body forward faster than my lower body, like a toddler first learning to walk. Flying forward with no way to gage whether I can stop or make the upcoming turn before flying right off the side of the hill. At this moment I realize life is like a crystal vase – fragile and fated to break; if you don’t use it then you waste it’s beauty in keeping it safe. Running down, out of control, I picture what it must feel like to run right off the side of the hill. I wonder if I would really fly?

I ran down this morning. Free like a gazelle leaping through the grasslands. This freedom was restricted by knowing I would soon have to run up. The pain would be endured knowing that after reaching the top of Mt Fortuna I would be able to run back down. Like a yo-yo my feelings and body run up and down over the land. Today, I reached the top and stopped. I try to stop for at least a few seconds and enjoy the beauty of the world and the accomplishment of seeing the path I just ran everyday, but today I stopped longer. I saw a little patch of sunlight on the land where the sun was breaking away the clouds. I don’t know why but this brought tears to my eyes. It was beautiful and I knew when I ran downhill against the cold air my rosy cheeks would welcome that little patch of sunlight moving across the green valley. It reminded me of Machu Picchu and while Mission Trails is far from Machu Picchu, it’s beauty is the same – breathtaking.

I sat on a rock, longer than usual, and let the uncontrollable tears roll down my cheeks and onto my lips. I tasted the salt and laughed. Why am I crying? I asked myself. For freedom, beauty and life I answered – half mocking, half serious. I started laughing aloud. I decided I must have gone mad. Some hikers walked by and I kept quiet and watched the black crows dive through the air until they passed. I could watch birds dance along the invisible wind streams forever. When they were out of eyesight I stood up and held my hands up like the statue of Christ the Redeemer. I spun around in circles. Dancing and spinning and dancing and spinning. Round and round until I got dizzy and stopped.

It occurred to me that this new found freedom is from getting out of the Marine Corps. I’m free. I’m free. I’m free. It is more than that though. Spinning on the top of the mountain I thought of Hugo. The man in a wheel chair for 20+ years who was grateful he was alive, not bitter an accident left his lower limbs useless. I thought of the old couple in the jungle. They would probably think running for fun is absurd. Their life is about survival – they learn to run fast so they can outrun predators or catch a meal, not so they can earn a medal or beat a personal record. I thought of standing on top of Waynu Picchu, dizzy from the altitude and the tiny steps without any railing, standing on top of the world seeing something I have wanted to see for so long. I took a deep breath and as I let it out slow and steady I realized this is why I run. If there is one thing I would pray for it would be that god never takes this meditation and tranquility away from me.

I’m home now. Floating again. Trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. What my next bold move is going to be. I spend my days floating above and below water. I don’t have much body fat so if I’m not careful I go from floating to sinking before I know what’s happening. I have these things I need to do, but I don’t write them down on paper, I just let the hamster spin them around and around on its wheel. I get to them when I feel like getting to them, but always making the deadlines (I will probably file my taxes on April 14th). After all, they aren’t just going to go away on their own. In the meantime I am learning how to run again, learning how to meditate, learning how to appreciate life.

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