MY MOMENTS, MY QUESTIONS, MY PEACE
The past six months have been a whirlwind of frantic days, increasing workload and a sense of losing any grasp of order in my life. A short term placement of two little boys which happened on the heels of my unexpected surgery, took my already chaotic life to a new level of insanity. The past month has been even more hectic and my long days even longer. These days the moments of sanity I manage to get are infrequent. They typically come when I am doing one of the things I love most, teaching fitness, coaching, or running and training.
Lately, most days I am a bit closer to that than I am comfortable with. I continuously remind myself of the big picture and that despite my questions I need to rely on God’s plan. Some days this works and other’s I have to just try to run it away.
Last weekend I headed out for a run with Ellie. Ellie is so many things to me, but of all the things she gives me, a running partner tops the list. Maggie at 7 months is still too young to run and Tanner at age 12 is just too tired. Aside from her energy which reminds me of a Tasmanian devil, Ellie has been my security blanket as I eased back into running after surgery. She is the presence that keeps me feeling confident when I am a few miles from home, safe on the trails, and present when I could be feeling alone. My brief but frightening stalker from last year no longer worries me as much and the doubt of getting back home from the run is less daunting. Within a week of her joining my life this year, the sound of the leash brings her running and literally dancing at my feet. Our routine was established almost immediately and the sight of me grabbing my running shorts sends her into frenzy.
As I headed out with Ellie this last week, I was irritable, anxious and stressed. My weekend had no less than six social engagements, two little boys that were going to be bat crazy after a home visit with their mom and more paperwork waiting for me than I can do in a month. On top of all that, it was 30 degrees and raining. I absolutely love running in the summer rain and will do a go out of my way to run on a warm rainy day. Winter rain is different and I tend to find it miserable and painful. But Ellie had too much energy and I couldn’t stand the thought of the treadmill. Because of the rain and temperatures I decided to drive to the start of the trail, seeking out the protection of the woods. I got dressed and grabbed a leash, and Ellie who doesn’t care for the rain at all, was so excited she could barely sit still in the Jeep. My obligations the last two weeks have affected some of our runs so she had way too much energy. We got to the trails and I was surprised to see how muddy they were. In the insulation of my office and work from pre-dawn to late evenings I had forgotten how much rain we had this week. We took off and I didn’t even bother dodging puddles as we wound through the woods. We were a bit more protected in the shelter of the trees but not so much that it kept us dry. I had just barely an hour to run and although I wasn’t really measuring distance, I turned on my GPS anyway. As I warmed up and we ran the familiar ground, I found myself allowing Ellie a few more stops to explore the smells and explore, and eventually I turned off my GPS. I lost interest in my pace and distance, and when Ellie’s attention wandered to the side of the trail I stopped more than usual. I walked up the hills, stopped fighting my heart rate and gravity, and allowed Ellie to set the pace. We slowed for sticks and sprinted for squirrels and listened to noises. We were splattered from head to toe in mud, soaking wet and had to entire trail to ourselves. When I finally looked at my watch I realized we had been running for 90 minutes. I was well past my schedule and yet knowing how tight my schedule was, didn’t pick up my pace and even took a small detour to allow Ellie to sniff the shore of a pond. I was reluctant to end the run and felt unsettled.
It took a few minutes to figure out what I was feeling and I realized it was sadness at ending our morning out there. I wanted to stay in that place all day and just meander through the mud and the rain. I wanted to capture the moment and the contentment I had found in the rain and mud. I felt physical tightness in my throat and chest as I finally turned around and headed in. Ellie must have been feeling the same things I was. Normally after that long on the trails, she is ready to drink some water and get her post run snack. Not this morning though. As I toweled off her muddy legs, she kept pulling against me trying to head back toward the trail. She kept looking at me and I knew she could likely sense how much I wanted to go too. She and I shared our usual banana on the way home and I thought about the difference in this morning’s run.
I am not sure I can explain in any way that does it justice. I know this though. I spend every hour of every day trying to achieve, to be better, to do well, to be a good person, to help others. I spend the hours of my life asking questions, of myself, my life, my faith, my past, my future and of others. I live in a state of relentless drive, to propel myself forward in a universe filled with the pull of gravity. I am never far from the street kid, homeless half my life and living on my own at fifteen, proving to the world that she would not allow her past to be her future.
In the woods, with Ellie none of those things matter and I am the closest I can be to letting go. It doesn’t matter who I was then, and the fear goes away. Ellie, who was so badly beaten she was blinded, trap marks around her backside and so scared of strangers she pees herself, lives in the moment. In her presence, she gives me a beautiful gift, because I am able to do the same. I find peace in the moments, silence in my questions and a wisdom that is more intuitive than intellectual. This amazing four legged girl, so badly treated by others, can love the moment, living in just the smells, the trails, the run. With her along side me, I am at least content knowing my futile attempts at controlling my world can rest for a moment. A fairly popular sticker reads “Who Rescued Who” and there is no doubt in my mind she rescues me, moment by moment, day by day. Defined by too many roles, tugged at by too many people and fighting with too many demons, I lose sight of the battles on our runs. She turns and looks up at me with her blind eye squinting against the rain and her tongue hanging out, and she is a reminder of the love and loyalty in my life and that I get to do this. For the moment I find peace and the moment gets me through another day.
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| My Buddies |
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