I was going to run 500 miles in 2011. I failed.
I started strong, but early in the year I asked my husband to run with me. I was panting and puffing and purpling, and he was...not. Not at all. I thought, "What is the matter with me? Why am I so slow? Why do I have to work so hard at running? I am just NOT getting any better at this. Why??"
Coincidentally, that same week I found an issue of Brain, Child in the magazine pile. It contained a story about a boy who didn't like running. His podiatrist explained to his mother that he was just put together more loosely than most people. He could run, but it would never be easy.
I thought, "Oooohhhh." And then I thought, "Don't make excuses."
I am also put together more loosely than most people. I don't stretch regularly, but I could hop off the couch and do a split without much discomfort. (Only one of the three possible splits, though.) The heads of my femurs can move in a really disturbing way, appearing to pop in and out of their sockets. I score at least 5 on the Beighton scale.
Dr. Google has lots to say about hypermobility, including this tidbit: it's harder for hypermobile people to run because their muscles have to compensate for their floppy joints.
I am SO out of shape right now. I have the arm strength of an abalone and a behind of blancmange, and I get out of breath too easily. These are not problems that will fix themselves, so I went for a run today.
It was not a success. Blargh.
One of the things I was mulling as I left Behold was the relationship between body and soul. (Do you know what I did? I was sorting through my bag of goodies and I tossed my program. I thought, "I don't need to know the schedule for the day now." I forgot completely about the notes I had taken in the program. Bummer!) I can't remember quite how it was phrased (and I can't look it up either because I am a FLAKE), but the Sister of Life who spoke first said something I wanted to remember, something like "We are as much the bodies of our souls as we are the souls of our bodies."
I need to tend my body a little more carefully, and running is one of the most efficient ways I know to work on that. I was thinking about my friend Liz as I was lumbering down the trail today -- she ran a 5-mile race a couple of years ago in less than 40 minutes. She threw up at the finish line, but do you know how she summarized the experience? She said, "It was awesome."
This makes me think of St. Paul and his exhortation to run so as to win. My own approach is to run so as not to completely embarrass myself -- as long as I can stay with the pack (or at least the very tail end of the pack) then it's okay. If I ran so hard I threw up, I would not describe it as an awesome experience. Physical discipline better equips us, I think, for spiritual discipline. I could use some of both.
So here's my plan, friends, at the end of this rambly navel-gaze-y post: I'm going to give running another shot despite my 2011 slackerness on that front. If I have joint trouble again, I will make an appointment with the doctor instead of just lapsing back into inactivity. And if you see me lurching around town, red-faced and out of breath, please don't point and laugh.
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