The Trail Calls

The marina parking lot is peppered with cars giving evidence to boat owners sleeping on their boats.  The sun kisses the ocean good morning.  The sea is still.  I start my watch; it is 6:33 am.

My pace is easy and it feels good.  For this I am thankful.  I had run a simple 4 mile run a day before and it was difficult, but today, the running felt good.

I wind my way out of the marina and head toward downtown.  I will connect with a trail there and follow it to within a mile of the next county.  Turning into the alley which connects me to the trail, I run by the Farmer's Market.  One or two vendors are starting their day; on my return the place will be bustling with people.

The trail is empty.  My footfalls are the only sound I hear.  As I near the ocean's edge, I see sailboats gently rocking on the sea.  All is quiet at the park except an occasional sea gull.

In just over 4 miles I am at the trail head, "The Urb" as we call it. The trail winds the edge of town for a couple miles, yet one would never know.  The trees hide the roadway and block the sounds of any traffic.  This morning I hear only birds.  All singing praises, and I quietly join their praises by thanking God for such a beautiful run in such a beautiful place.

The deserted trail, lost in nature is exactly what I need.  Life has been exceptionally crazy, many stresses, and this deserted trail along with my alone time with God is the salve I craved.  No one calling, no one needing my attention, no one asking me anything; with each step I was unwinding.  There are footfalls and birds singing and me.

Shade is plentiful with small sun streams reaching the forest floor.  I am in awe of the beauty.  The trail parallels the ocean and when the trees part I am given the most incredible vistas of an endless ocean.  

I have met only 3 runners this morning, and one was approaching me.  In the farthest part of the trail, I realize my friend Joy is running toward me!  We stop for a minute or two and catch up as quickly as we can.  Injury has kept her away and our running group misses her so.  With a hug, we part ways.

A mile later I have reached 10 miles and turn around to head back into town.  God and I talk; I feel better.  It never ceases to amaze me how much better I feel.  The verse from Matthew comes to mind, "Come to Me all who are burden and heavy laden and I will give you rest."  After running 10 miles I feel rested.

Something up ahead catches my eye.  It is a deer, facing me, and it is standing in the middle of the trail.  I kick my feet in hopes the noise will scare it off.  No such luck.  The deer looks to be about a year old and I wonder if I've got the age right or if mama is hiding around the corner.   The deer isn't moving and I slow my pace and make louder noises.  She isn't scared, but rather, lowers her head and scrapes her hoof in the dirt.

Oh no.

I stop; very well aware she is standing her ground and not going to move.  I know she is not old enough to have babies so I wonder if she is trying to let mama know how brave she is.    Finally she raises her head and stares at me again.  With a jerk to the left she begins to buck her way off the trail and into the brush.  Whew.  I prayed mama wasn't near by.

Mile 14 chirps on my watch and I recognize my friends Dawn and Jackie coming toward me on the trail.  We pause our watches and all talk at once.  Our laughter is caught in the branches of the forest.  Big, long hugs are given and we continue on each in our own direction.

As I leave the forest, I know the hottest part of the course is in the final 4 miles.  I remind myself to run this mile and nothing more.  I feel good and my pace is strong.  Along the water people have started their weekend; they are milling around the park, lazily walking with coffee in hand.  They are loving the ocean view.

The final hill awaits on South Bay Trail and I take it slow and steady.  Shade dots the trail giving relief along the way.  The Farmer's Market is now in full swing with vendors selling their wares and food cooking on the grills.  Surprisingly it smells good - nothing usually smells good at 18 miles.  I turn and head back to the marina.

With a final mile to go, I realize even though I am tired, my solo run has cleared my head.  My legs are heavy, my heart is light.  With my car in sight, my watch chirps.  20 miles of solitary alone time has given me exactly what I needed, yet I miss the high fives from my friends that we always give when the long miles are completed.

Chocolate milk is on ice waiting for me in my trunk.  I lean against my car enjoying ever single ounce of it.  It's been 20 miles since I'd been at my car and I feel more rested than when I had started.  There is something rejuvenating about the created being among creation.  

The trail gave me more than I ever thought it could.  And it silently waits until next time.  Next time when I need to hear the birds sing and my footfalls quietly echo in the branches.

No More School, No More Books

It's hot and the sun is bright as I step onto the black oval of a local high school track.  My friends and I meet every Monday to push ourselves with speed or tempo runs.  Meeting earlier than I could make, they had already begun their workout.  I step onto an outside lane and begin my easy paced warm up mile; alone.  The quiet is what I need.

The last day of school is normally a day of celebration in our household, yet today I found myself deep in melancholy.  Selfishly I could not wait for this day - no more packing lunches, no more homework, no more grade checks.  I was done with conversations centered around school work.  The day was finally here.  YES!

What I was not ready for was the feeling of sadness at the bus stop earlier that morning.  My youngest hops on the bus to embark on his last day of elementary school; after today he would be walking the halls of middle school.  The bus driver, Mary Anne, shuts the door and turns to wave at me ~ just as she has done every day for the past 11 years once each of my boys had boarded the bus.  As she pulls away and I start my car to leave for work, it dawns on me : this is my last day of elementary school.  My days at the bus stop are over. 

I wasn't ready to close that chapter.

My feet are carrying me around the track and helping me let go of the emotions of the day.  To hold tight to those feelings would not change the reality of that part of my life being over; no, this was a chance to embrace something new, something scary and I will be just fine.  But it doesn't mean I'm not staring this opportunity in the face without sadness in this mama's heart.

My friends, Kathy and Karen, are on a cool down lap and turn around to meet me as I finish  my warm up.  The next couple mile repeats we run together.  Kathy just watched her youngest son graduate from high school two days previous and understands every single emotion.  The three of us talk and more importantly, we laugh.

As they started before me, I am off to run the final mile repeat on my own.  The sun is hot.  The black track reflecting the heat suddenly gives me incredible amounts of empathy for how bacon feels in a frying pan.  Despite it all, I nail the pace of my final mile.  I feel good.  I feel better than I had all day.

The workout is over and we head back to our cars.  We gather in the parking lot and the conversation gets long.  There is no homework to go home to, there is no rushing home to pack lunches, there is only me with my running friends talking about whatever it is we want to talk about.

And I am enjoying every single minute of it.   

A Boy In India

Last year I was contacted to write the experiences of others in an effort to bring light to community involvement. The stories, from myself and others, were then published to raise awareness in reaching outside our comfort zones.  

Although this particular story does not focus on my usual love of running, the subject of this story is of a fellow marathoner therefore, I suppose, it fits perfectly.

When running long distances, the finish line brings often clarity to our lives as well as a new sense of strength.  

Sometimes it takes a little boy.

*******************

The callous on his heart controlled his emotions.  God had brought him here, to India.  Never had he beheld so many abandoned or sick people, tossed out of their homes by family as carelessly as one tosses out a bag of trash for Tuesday’s garbage day.  His heart felt very little for the pain and suffering he saw all around him.  This bothered him, yet the callous remained.

Today’s visit brought the team to a hospital.  Here the main task was to simply reach out and touch those who have forgotten what a touch by another feels like.  As directed by the staff, they would each spend time with a patient before moving on to the next. 

His job today would be holding a child that could not use his legs.  Scooping down he lifted the child onto his lap.  Words were spoken in different languages yet transcended understanding.  Only God could make two people understand each other’s language with a simple stirring in the heart.

When it was time to move on, he set his new friend down and rose to leave.  Walking away, he heard the heartache in his sister’s voice as she called his name.  Their eyes locked and he saw the tears brimming her eyes.  Turning around he found the child desperately pushing himself along the floor, dragging his legs behind him, in a desperate effort to get closer to him once again. 

That sound.  That sound pierced his heart and it was that sound that broke him.

The sound of the boy’s legs dragging behind him violently ripped the callous off of his heart.  His heart was now raw and flooding with emotion.  God used that precious little boy to give him the unmistakable picture of God desperately coming after him.  Just as with this child, God only wanted his love.  

He broke down and wept.