Running, and the Spirit

My spirit is cyclical, I’ve decided, at times robust, impenetrable, without fissure or fault. But something happens to chip it, even just the tiniest bit, and the subtle erosion begins. Piece by simple piece, and without warning, or perhaps with warning unheeded, every blessed hurt and doubt and taunt and misgiving gets through, wreaking havoc, feasting freely on my stores. My spirit, at these times, lays withered. My mind, defeated. My soul, susceptible.

It is easy for me to wallow in this state, to find comfort in the familiarity of feeling wretchedly sorry for myself. It's a trap, a ploy to swap contentment with resignation, to escape the climb to the surface. I've been there too often, wrapped in resignation, shivering, cold, imagining myself lost.

I don't like it there.

There’s a simplicity to running the demands a simplicity of mind – a time to cleanse and clear, wipe away the clutter. The mind/body relationship during a good run is incredible – the body’s challenge demands a focused mind; the simplicity of the mind drives the successful run.

Running is my way out: it is my escape from those depths, an escape from the things that drive me to those depths. I start out by running away, hard, fast, panting, sweat building on my brow, putting distance, as much as possible, between me and everything else; and then, without fail, it falls away from me, out of breath, out of contention...it is just me now. My mind clears; with each pounding footfall, each drop of sweat, a little more is swept away. The body finds harmony, striking the pavement in resonant chords, the mind, at peace, focused solely on the machine it steers. A balance is struck: mind and body, renewed, empowered, surging forward, a single, solid force.

Turning home, exhausted physically, but cleansed, strengthened in spirit.

Copyright © 2007