Somebody's Son

I have not had much time to blog about my runs this week. My work has kept me occupied to the exclusion of all else.

I did run 9-miles on Wednesday, and then I attempted to run another 7- miles on Thursday, but I checked my voicemail from my cell phone before I allowed my legs to move from neutral into high gear. One thing led to another, and, the next thing I knew, I was anxiously pacing the running path with my cell phone burning my ear.

It was not a good day for me.

I dealt with the Thursday crisis as best as I could. As I kicked the dust and gravel, I realized that the surrender message was again floating about me on the path like a heavy fog.

Friday I had the pleasure of returning to the Purgatory County where I am battling The Forces on behalf of a young, innocent client who is facing 50-years in prison if convicted. I had planned an 8-mile run for Friday afternoon, as my hearing with the Court Jesters was to last only an hour over lunch. Instead, I realized that my role for Friday's drama was to be the suffering-with-dignity protagonist, or so I would like to think.

I am a shield. Into the shield go the arrows of the enemy. Temperance goes a long way. A huge part success in the Battle for Good depends upon one's ability to self-control, rather than one's ability to control others. Self-control was my mantra all day Friday as I was tossed and turned in the Grinder of Justice.

I know that God was with me, and though I could not see Him, I did feel Him. One consolation was that the experience Friday gave me no time to throw myself a pity party from my Thursday trauma.

Come 2 p.m., all I wanted to do was to run in the Land of Never-Never.

At about 3 p.m., when it became apparent to me that I would be denied my running escape, I let go of the fantasy.

Thankfully, as a suffering-with-dignity protagonist, I knew better than to chase the windmills planted for me by the Minions of Injustice. I instead focused on the Icon of Justice, which the Holy One presented to me in the womb, and which I then accepted to be my own, thereby allowing its image to be forever imprinted upon my soul.

When one has an Icon of Justice imprinted upon one's soul, it cannot be hidden. It is also, unfortunately, a magnet for those unholy Minions of Injustice, who swarm about my Inner Icon.

And so it was that instead of running in Never Never Land, I found myself sitting in a jail with my young client, who was anxious and scared about his impending trial. I am part mother, part shaman, and part lawyer in these situations. As I departed, he asked me what he should wear for his jury, and I told him to what to wear, explaining that I wanted him to "look like Somebody's Son."

This is because my young client is Somebody's Son. I blessed him with a final dose of legalese, and returned to the lion's den to Battle in the Colosseum.

I was nearly eaten by the Lion, who cares not about Somebody's Son. I prayed for my soul's imprints of humility and strength to emerge, and they did emerge as called upon. I asked St. Thomas Moore to protect me, and He did intervene.

For that I gave thanks during my 8-mile run on Saturday, after which I felt a keen desire to lift some weights to make myself stronger. I ran and lifted and gave some more thanks.

It was during today's long run that I stopped giving thanks and started listening. It was a beautiful day--perfect running weather. I slept in, as I define that term. I took my time getting to the path where I belong.

When I did arrive I felt nothing but peace within. After all, I am doing my best for Somebody's Son. I am also tending to the Garden of My Soul and this week I did some major weeding. It is so difficult to weed one's own garden because the weeds get intertwined with the good fruit, and sometimes the weeds take upon a beauty of their own and make The Gardner think that the weed is acceptable in the garden.

One thing for sure: All weeds return.

I planned a 26-mile run, in derogation of the running program I have faithfully followed. My thinking was that because I missed 15-miles on Thursday and Friday, then I had to make it up. I was supposed to run 8-miles today. That is 23-miles added up together, and then I figured I would throw in another 3-miles so that I could time the distance of the Marathon.

All was well until mile 18 when I began to get severe abdominal cramps. By mile 20 I was unable to walk, let alone run. My abdomen became severely distended. I worried about my kidneys, because I have a disease which attacks the kidneys (Lupus). I worried about dehydration, because I have a deadly disease which causes my blood to clot (Hughes Syndrome).

And so I surrendered.

I laid myself down upon a bench and unsuccessfully tried to contact my husband and some other family members, with the hope I could get a ride to my car, which was 6-miles from the bench. Then I phoned my priest, who lives just a mile or so from the bench. He drove to get me, and took me to my car. Being also my good friend, we discussed my run and the marathon, and his marathons, as I clung to my tummy along the way.

He got me all situated at my car, and I gave him thanks for his help with my longest run, in the literal and metaphoric sense. After all, it is not lost on me that today I was "saved" by a priest.

The running week has ended and I look forward to the next running week which begins for me tomorrow. Though I tried to run my longest run today, I did not finish. I surrendered to my fate.

In the other sense, though, I did go the distance of my longest run today.