It has been a busy time for me...so busy in fact I have not had time to blog about my runs. I suppose I could not run to give myself time to blog, but then I would have nothing to blog about. You see, I require a reason to place myself on these pages.
It was a week ago that I began to feel Life's Heaviness bare down upon my soul. Responsibility, being my mantra, is the door for entry: Responsibility to my family, to my clients, and to all of those to whom I owe a hard and honest day's work.
As far as I can tell, I took a pledge sometime before I was born, likely when that Icon of Justice was being imprinted upon my soul, that I would care for others. I like to think of myself as the first hue of paint which begins the Painter's great work. As one examines the finished artwork, the first hue of color is not distinguished. It is there, and it holds together the other colors, but it cannot itself be seen. Even Surat used a basic hue prior to dotting his masterpieces. Caravaggio was the master of the basic hue, over which he brought forth God's own breath.
And so it goes that I am, like all of humanity, simply part of a greater masterpiece. I am a part which is necessary, but which cannot be fully seen in the end.
When I speak of Life's Heaviness this is not in the depressed sense of the term. Rather, Life's Heaviness is a very old and dear friend to me. I welcome Life's Heaviness. It is my privilege to serve Him when He knocks upon my soul.
In order to serve Life's Heaviness, I must care for myself in a way that might seem indulgent to others. It is not self-indugence. I know that if I am to tender my due to Life's Heaviness, I must be of sound mind, body, and soul.
This is why I run.
And run I did before Life's Heaviness paid His most recent visit. I was prepared physically for the challenge.
Soonafter, it occurred to me that I had not laughed in several days. I mean really laughed. I saw no humor in what was presented.
I wore tight blinders to the possibility of even seeing something remotely funny in Life's Heaviness. I was, after all, called to serve and protect. I was, as always, a tool in the hand of the Builder.
I momentarily forgot that the tool does not work without the Architect. I required a lift out of the toolbox.
And so it was that I sat outside of my gym on a bench. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, and I intended to put on my running shoes. I was a humorless but earnest tool. I was barefoot and in no hurry.
I was in a place where I could not be found unless I consented to the finding.
God found me ripe for the joke.
I looked up to see an elderly man on a vintage bicycle. He looked like Earnest Hemingway's twin. No. He was Earnest Hemingway's ghost. I had a double take. Hemingway was circling around me on my bench. Why, I do not know. He had a wicker basket on the front of his old bicycle. There was a fishing pole sticking out of the side. It was a bamboo fly rod. This man had a very scruffy, short white beard and a tan, and he wore clothing I would only imagine on Earnest Hemingway's body.
I stopped in my bare feet and began to stare at this man circling around my bench. He made 3 full circles. He was nowhere near a bike or pedestrian path. He came out of the parking lot, from all I could tell. I did not see his entry. I saw only his circles around my bench.
I said to myself, "This man looks like Earnest Hemingway!" I wanted to hear his voice, because I have always wanted to talk to Earnest Hemingway. But I dared not speak to him, for fear he was really a ghost, or worse, a mental case who pretends to be Earnest Hemingway on weekday afternoons.
He rode away, and I put on my shoes and made entry into the gym. I turned back, only to see Mr. Hemingway's face pressed against the glass. I think he was trying to see what was inside the gym and he must not have wanted to part with his bike long enough to come inside and get a real view. Either that, or the ghost of Hemingway was fooling around with me.
As I ran that day I laughed inside about my encounter with Hemingway. I considered that maybe God needed to take dramatic steps to get my attention away from Life's Heaviness, and He did so in fine form.
But God was not done with my funny bone. Sometime during mile-5, I saw in front of me a 50-ish man on a banana seat bicycle, peddling as if his life depended on it. He was wearing street clothes and a bright, shiney, red, solid helmet. It was a helmet the likes of which a WWII soldier would wear, except it was bright red. He also wore rather large yellow-framed sunglasses. He zipped by me on a mission I imagined to be related to saving the mentally ill from an asteroid.
I considered that image in my mind as I ran. I thought it was very funny . Perhaps both Hemingway and Helmet Man may have thought my Batman Belt, with its accompaniments were also very funny, and that I was on a mission to save the world's runners from dehydration.
A while later, from behind, I heard a bicycle bell dinging incessantly. I felt like my 10-year-old had somehow located my coordinates and had skipped school and was bicycling madly to reach me. I turned, only to see Helmet Man crouched down over his handlebars, zooming at a high speed. He did not let up on the bell. His yellow framed sunglasses seemed much larger to me now.
In an instant he was gone into the distance. I asked myself whether I had, in fact, just seen Helmet Man again, but this time with a loud bell.
I guess God thought I needed more to get my attention.
"Ok", I thought, "I get the joke!"
I should have known that there has to be the Last Word, which came yesterday, sometime during mile-10. I saw in the distance a man on a bicycle and I thought it odd that he sat so high up on his bike. As he drew near, I thought to myself that I have never seen a man on such a tall bike.
When he was even nearer, I realized that this man was on a unicycle. Yes, a unicycle. It was a very tall unicycle and he was alone, as was I. He wore dark knee pads and a dark helmet and dark clothing. We were on a rather isolated dirt/gravel path, a place you would think that unicycles fear to tread. He had no shame about his tall unicycle. He was completely at ease as he passed me. I stared way up at him and I smiled.
Unicycle Man smiled back as he intently maintained his balance. I wanted to ask him for a turn on his unicycle, but I, of course, did not know him well enough for that type of intimacy.
I have always wanted to try a unicycle.
God knows that.
I laughed for the remainder of my run.
So it goes that I am 6-days from my goal of running in the Chicago Marathon, and I am laughing inside, despite Life's Heaviness.
I am in taper mode, and I am laughing inside.
Sunday's finish line will, God willing, find me still laughing inside, just as I hope that I will laugh inside as I cross the finish line of my Life's Longest Run.
No comments:
Post a Comment