One Foot In Front of the Other: A Meditation

Today I went for my Sunday long run. It was definitely a "one foot in front of the other" kind of run. I felt tired and cranky. I ran my first five miles quite quickly - without even realizing it. A 10:31 mile isn't fast for many of you, but for me it's an achievement. The second 5.4 miles I ran with my running buddy, then she left and I ran home. My legs felt leaden, my heart was heavy. I passed five youths in the park, sprinted across the muddy parking lot, and felt so happy to be in Montreal where there wasn't a real threat from those young men.

I've been dedicating all my miles for Mollie Tibbets (#MilesforMollie) who was killed while out for a run during the summer, and whose body was found on my 62nd birthday. She was so young she could actually be my granddaughter, if I'd had a child at 20 who had a child at 22. Funny how I tend to do calculations like that at around mile ten.

Running can be a meditation. Along with considering how cold your buttocks are, how pretty the leaves look, the unevenness of the sidewalk, the pedestrians in your way, you also have time to really think about things. My phone died after the first five miles so when I split with my buddy I ran in silence. There was a lot to think about today: I am organizing a fun new moon get-together for November 7; I thought about the tragic killings that happened on Saturday in Pittsburgh; of course I gave my five children some running time. I wrote a couple of sentences, made a couple of lists. I did some head-to-toe form recons. My left foot has the tendency to flip outwards and I have to consciously correct it: here's a great article on running form.

About three miles from home the weariness set in. My thighs felt like lead. So unusual for me: I often feel better and better the longer I run. I have been taking on too many problems and worries that are really not my own. I had an episode (no, three, actually - funny how life demands that you respond to the issue at hand) concerning boundaries and where I delineate them. And that nagging feeling that, yes, my alt-right Facebook friends were right: we should just all carry guns. I've personally only even seen a real gun up close once. Not counting the sub-machines guns the carabinieri carry threateningly in Italy. And I would describe myself as a pacifist. But would I, if I had been carrying a little pistol to protect myself while running (theoretically), would I have aimed and tried to kill that guy who was mowing down innocent old people who were praying?

I don't know. I've killed chickens, ducks, geese and three turkeys after all. I've witnessed many births, I've watched humans die. But, as I mentioned, I am Canadian, and we aren't in the habit of taking the law into our own hands. Maybe I would have tried to disarm him somehow? It's a moot point anyhow. The scary fact is that those people were killed because they were Jews. No other reason. 

So that nasty little fact was also roiling around in my head during my run. The weather didn't help either: temperatures hovering around freezing; freezing rain and some wet snow. Anyway, I finished my run, got home - a little wet, cold, and a little sore - and stepped right into a warm home full of friendly, generous people.

In the end, all I can do is count my blessings. One after the other. One blessing, one foot in front of the other.

Spread love.