Surrender

I worked until 2 a.m. last night, and the night before last I worked until midnight. This is because I do a couple of different jobs and sometimes, though not often, I have to burn the midnight oil. It is all worth it when I consider the following: (1) I don't have to work retail; (2) I don't have to wait tables; (3) I can run every day as long as I get my work done.

Sleep is sometimes incidental.

Running is not.

I ran 8 miles yesterday and 8 today. Yesterday I also managed to spend quality time with a friend over an omelet she made for me. We had an enlightening discussion about "surrender" and what that means in her life and mine...well, I was more of a listener when it came to the surrender discussion because I don't have a whole lot to say about the notion of surrender in my life.

On my way to the early morning omelet I stopped along the way to buy my friend a copy of Mother Teresa's new book, which came out yesterday. This is what triggered the surrender talk.

I thanked my friend on the way out for giving me something to think about on my run yesterday and those thoughts spilled over to today's run.
And so I ran yesterday on a bum knee. It is my right knee and I injured it on my 75-mile bike ride Saturday AM. I had problems with this knee after my last long ride, but I did not consider surrendering. Instead, I put a little black strap around my knee cap and made a deal with the devil in exchange for a bike ride from heaven.

Problem is, I put the strap on the wrong knee. I'd blame the devil for tricking me but, being Catholic, I don't think too much about the devil. The long Sunday run woke me up to the wrong knee situation.

Even after having that lovely discussion with my friend about surrender, I was unable to internalize the message, because yesterday after breakfast I ran those 8 miles (by God) and did not link the surrender thing to my knee.

Surrender is not in my repertoire.

During yesterday's run, I thought lots about our discussion and about how surrender is a concept that I do not fully comprehend. I told myself on mile-5 that "surrender is for navel-gazing sissies."

I had difficulty walking a flight of steps in my downtown parking garage yesterday after my run. Ok. Surrender is not a sissy thing, I thought, but I refuse to analyze my knee in this mixture.

This AM I got a later than usual start with my run because I worked until 2 a.m. A little sleep is necessary.

I had great difficulty running on my right knee. I passed my fellow path-mates, whom I have passed almost daily since April. They had never seen me wince in pain. One fellow, a round-faced African American who wears an ARMY t-shirt every day, and sometimes carries a stick while running (as though it were his weapon), made certain eye contact with me as we passed. We pass daily and he never looks at me. I call him West Point Runner.

Then I remembered one thing. Yesterday while sitting in my friend's kitchen, I vividly recall her turning around from the stove and her t-shirt clearly said ARMY on it. I almost commented but I did not want to interrupt her train of good thought (and I most certainly did not want to give her the idea that I was not paying attention to those good thoughts), and so I forgot to mention to her that I have never before seen her wearing an ARMY t-shirt.

So today on the path I realized that my omelet friend is in some sort of spiritual and mental conspiracy with West Point Runner. They are ganging up on me.

I could have sworn I heard West Point Runner say "surrender" as he passed me by, but that may have been a delusion from the pain.

It was then that I began to really think about surrender in my life journey. It is a topic worthy of exploration and I have merely knocked on its front door. No one has answered...yet.

Meanwhile, perhaps I will go get myself one of those ARMY shirts to wear, in case some day I am invited to join the co-conspirators of the surrender movement. Maybe I will even get myself a nice weapon-like stick to haul around when I really surrender.

For now, though, I can only surrender to my knee.