In it for the long run

"a still more excellent way"

I happened to run across this verse in Corinthians just before Paul's famous words on love that have been read at so many weddings: "But I will show you a still more excellent way." 1 Cor. 12:30.

The verse opens onto such a lovely reminder of what matters. But I like simply the words themselves, the way that they point to a future full of hope, faith not only in others but in oneself, in one's ability to "show a more excellent way." Lately when I ask myself what I hope people remember about me, the answer is what I have shown them. The "still more excellent way" can shine out in lots of ways--the sun playing on the water, the sudden brightness of tiger lilies on a hillside, the sight of a rainbow.... I hope to invite people to see deeply.

How does this relate to running or to today's run? Again it's hot today. Philly summers just don't let up, especially in July. I hadn't slept well--restless, sad, grieving my mom--woke up later than I'd hoped, and was about to resign myself to heading for the Y again to run this 8x2 mins. hard repeats that Mike had on my schedule. Yet I wanted more from this workout than the sterility of pre-set treadmill speed. That was okay for yesterday when I needed a break. But I wanted "a more excellent way." I wanted to know what I could do in these heated up conditions, wanted not to back off and be afraid of the stresses the environment was placing on me and my running. Otherwise, I'd lose the joy.

So I headed for the track, where I started with some of the skipping/bounding exercises that Dave had us doing on Tuesday. God they're fun! I did about 5 sets of the high knee drill (abt. 40 yards?), then about 5 sets of the skipping, then abt. 4 or 5 strides of about 15-25 seconds. I had some company b/c there was a guy doing similar exercises. He was smarter. He started his in the shaded part of the track, and soon I joined him there (I'd been doing mine on the sunlit straightaway).

Next was the 8x2 min. repeats, which I decided to instead to run as 1/4 miles (thinking that it normally takes me about two mins. and lately sometimes more to run quarters). To my surprise, I got almost all of these under two minutes. The times were 1:53, 1:54, 1:53, 1:55, 1:56, 2:00, 2:00, 1:59. The last felt as if it was certainly going to be over two minutes, so I was pleased to see that the time had gone back down. These were run with 2 mins. rest in between--but the interpretation of "2 minutes" got ... um ... a little more liberal as the workout continued.

While I was doing my workout, there was a girl doing intervals in a racing wheelchair. She looked very in command of her workout, very focused. (I was surprised to learn she was only 14!) Watching her, I appreciated all the more the upper body/arm strength that the wheelchairs require. Her arms/hands moved in rapid succession, her body and the wheelchair working as one! I was all the more aware that I needed to give my best to my workout, seeing her push herself as she did. I wondered if she dreamed of running the track, but there was no trace of wistfulness, just a competitor there, as I was, to find a higher gear. We were both there to test ourselves, to dare ourselves to step out into the sun, face the heat of a Philly summer. The girl's coach told me she was going to compete in Arizona, so the need to acclimatize brought them to the track this morning.

Surprisingly, there were quite a few people on the track, all at different speeds, with different goals: a father and son who (at the son's initiative) would surge from a steady walk/jog to a sprint; a man with black shoes whose pace I couldn't match in my quarters; the aforementioned man doing sprint drills; the wheelchair racer; several women, some running, some walking; a few children; an elderly man in sweats walking and occasionally stretching/swinging his arms; another older man, running shirtless, who kept saying "good girl" when I'd finish a quarter and would cheer on several others, including the wheelchair racer, the man with black shoes, and the father-son pair ("don't make him work so hard! what do you think this is, the Olympics?" alternating with "great running, son!"). There we were, quite an assorted crowd, testing ourselves in this July heat, looking for a "more excellent" way than hiding indoors, and so becoming a community of effort. With each step into that community, I find what it takes to survive.

posted by DPMcManus @ 9:22 AM