By David Smith
January 8, 2024
Greetings from the arete,
I am a runner.
It’s not how I introduce myself, not because I’m shy about it, but because it is insufficient to simply say it. It is not merely a label or pastime or the title of a sports participant. It is not simply anything. In order for me to fully share that with you, we should probably go for a run.
There has been an arc for me. When I was a boy, I ran to get from one place to another, one of the purest expressions in life. In the years between I sampled various motivations to begin running, but they all led to the path I am on now.
I’ve run through the gambit of geometry, ovals and circles and rectangles, and on trails that defy geometry, are really more works of art carved into the woods and hillocks. I have explored miles and kilometers in various assembled totals. I laughed writing that because from one mile to fifty kilometers, they have all mattered enormously and then not at all.
The world of running is filled with numbers. Times, distances, records, personal bests, numbers of runners, age groups, splits, elevation, pace, calories. I have a new watch and it came with a host of numbers I would never have known about. Heart rate, cadence, stride length, intensity, VO2, vertical ratio, ground contact time. There’s more but your eyes are already glazed. I know because mine are.
I am not as interested in sharing numbers or distances or counting medals. I am not indifferent about these things, they simply don’t pop up in my conscious very often. I guess I’m just realizing this as I am writing it. The truth is I still compete, it is part of the oath we take when we line up to race; to do our best with what we are given today. But perhaps the stakes have changed, because my best often has a loose connection with the time on the clock.
I still care how far I run, and how fast, because when something important is coming I want to be ready, and if you don’t do the work, you fail to honor the gift. But in between, I run for no other reason than to run. And there is where it gets too complicated to write out.
I run to see what nature has to offer today. To have conversations with friends, some of whom are running beside me, others miles away. I run to untwist problems, to settle grudges, to explore my potential. The purpose in telling you any of this is to perhaps expand your response to people like me who eventually say that the reason they are wincing as they walk is because of the effort they demanded of their legs in the pursuit of excellence. Or of poetry, or peace or balance or prayer.
My legs are a little sore this morning, there is a heaviness that only comes from the kind of effort that I have engaged in the last weeks. I am so grateful for this feeling that it nearly brings me to tears. This ache is a choice, it is a companion, a reminder of what is called for in this place I go.
Running can lead to so much beauty. Thinking. Seeing creation. Exploring relationships.
Learning about ourselves, delving into our possibilities, physical, mental and spiritual. Running can be a manifestation of our best selves. It can also teach us to deal with disappointment.
Out on the edge of our capacity, where I have been a few times as a runner, there is a stripping away, often down to a core that is our very essence. It reveals our limits and our potential in the same drama. As astonishing and frightening as this can be, it is one of the most important experiences in my life. It also led me to understand these things can be revealed in ordinary moments, if I pay close enough attention.
I don’t presume to speak for all runners, though I suspect they will nod at some of these words. We all run for our own reasons, a list I won’t start here. But the purpose for writing any of this is to create understanding and to serve as a reminder that our best lives wait for us in many places. When you see any of us running by your picture window, in rain or snow or blistering heat, perhaps it will not seem as outlandish.
I will also tell you that for me running is an expression of gratitude. I lace up my shoes and take the first step, and feel the reason and possibility for my presence in the day, and I am thankful for this work of art that I occupy, and for the place it takes me. And in each mile, until the last step, I am acting out my thanks and appreciation for this miracle.
Some morning, come join me for a few miles and we can talk about it.
Hope this finds you finding your pace,
David
Copyright © 2024 David Smith
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