Freedom's Run Marathon--Part 4

I've already said this in the last five days, but I will say it again. I never would have guessed that the Freedom's Run Marathon would have led me to write so much. The last two parts that I am envisioning go back to my idea of "bib number and Bible verses" that later expanded to include "race times and Bible verses." My bib number was 96. I could have looked at that as the sixth verse of a ninth chapter or the ninth verse of a sixth chapter or he 96th chapter. There are not too many books of the Bible with 96 chapters. In fact, only one comes to mind--Psalms. So, I turned to Psalm 96 and found inspiration.

As always, I draw on the Bible at the U S Conference of Catholic Bishops webpage.

1 "Sing to the LORD a new song; 

sing to the LORD, all the earth.
2 Sing to the LORD, bless his name; 

proclaim his salvation day after day.
3 Tell his glory among the nations; 

among all peoples, his marvelous deeds.
4 For great is the LORD and highly to be praised, 

to be feared above all gods.
5 For the gods of the nations are idols, 

but the LORD made the heavens.
6 Splendor and power go before him; 

power and grandeur are in his holy place.
7 Give to the LORD, you families of nations, 

give to the LORD glory and might;
give to the LORD the glory due his name!
8 Bring gifts and enter his courts; 

bow down to the LORD, splendid in holiness.
9 Tremble before him, all the earth; 

declare among the nations: The LORD is king.
10 The world will surely stand fast, never to be shaken.

He rules the peoples with fairness.
11 Let the heavens be glad and the earth rejoice; 

let the sea and what fills it resound;
let the plains be joyful and all that is in them.
12 Then let all the trees of the forest rejoice 

before the LORD who comes,
who comes to govern the earth,
13 To govern the world with justice 

and the peoples with faithfulness."

What does this mean, and how does it relate to the marathon.  Well, this marathon was one of the most beautiful courses I ever ran on.  (Probably the most and at the time of year when the leaves were just beginning to change."  That certainly makes things like "Let the heavens be glad..." that makes me think of song lyrics we have sung for years "Let heaven rejoice and earth be glad, let all creation sing."  It is joy.  And while there were moments during the race when neither Lauren nor I would necessarily have thought of "joy" as the first word to come to mind, the overall course made me think of joy.  And there were many trees lining the course so that fits wit verse 12 as well.  The first three verses are also just plain joyful verses that make me think of the joy that came with this marathon.  Training to run it with someone.  Realizing that goal--for at least 19 of the 26.2 miles.  And enjoying a course that shows the wonder and beauty of the world that God created.

The rest of the Psalm talks a bit about God being fair and just and the fact that the Gods of other nations are idols.  It is the last part that I focus on the most.  (Although I don't ignore the fair and just part and choose to see that above the parts about fear and trembling.)  

In any case, I try not to make running my idol but to use running to experience God.  I recognize the friends that I am blessed to have in my life.  I recognize the beauty of the land over which I am lucky enough to run.  I realize the wonderful neighborhoods that I can see and the people in them.  I realize the health that I am blessed to have and keep (including the ability to train hard but not crazy and run a 3:34).  I realize the way in which this has affected my life.  And I see it in the context of my faith in God.  And the joy that I can share with others.  Not always evangelizing like the street corner preacher's back in my Penn State days, but quietly being willing to speak of my faith and share the joy it brings me.  

What Speaks to Me

As a Catholic for nearly 45 years now, I have been to a lot of masses.  Yesterday, as with every Christmas or Christmas Eve during my lifetime, I went to mass to celebrate the birth of Christ.  Nothing unusual there.  The twist this year was that my 15 year old was invited to sing at the Church of the Resurrection (and Episcopalian church in Lutherville) at 4 before my family attended the Catholic mass at St Pius X at 6.  So, I attended two closely related celebrations one right after the other and had a chance to compare, among other things, music.  And what I am going to say is not a comment about the quality of the music and is not meant to imply how others should view the world.  It is simply a statement of what I find works (or doesn't work) for me in my own worship experience.

Let me set the context.  I grew up attending 8 AM mass at St Laurence's in Upper Darby with no music.  So, when I got to Penn State and found guitar players and flute players and singers at many masses, I was ecstatic.  (And on the third Sunday of Advent for at least one year they even had drums.)  The music ministry at St. Mary's in Ann Arbor also spoke to me, and I was a part of the music ministry at St. Pius X where we have now gone for over 18 years for more than 5 years.  I a not now as there are only so many hours in the day and I still love my running (which I had a chance to do this morning in shorts on Christmas Day in Baltimore!) and my writing and my work and my family most of all.  And the music ministry at St. Pius X has included guitars and pianos and electric keyboards and flutes and drums and electric basses.  All good.  But when I was part of the ministry, I didn't sing much.  (It was all I could do to play bass properly.)  And I really do love singing--even if I'm not all that good.  And I love the parts of the Nine Lessons and Carols that Maryland State Boychoir does where the congregation sings.  My father is a cantor at his church.  Clearly, singing is in the blood.

So, the service at Church of the Ressurection included two boys (my son being one of them) singing Once in Royal David's City, my son soloing O Holy Night, and multiple songs sungs by the congregation including four during Communion.  Three Carols and one modern song called "Here I Am to Worship".  The final carol was Silent Night--sung by flicker-light.  They tried candles last year but realized that was dangerous at a family mass.  During Silent Night the last verse was acapella.  And everyone in the small church (it seated maybe 150) sang.  And it was beaitful.  I was touched emotionally.  I got a little choked up.  And I nearly shed a tear.  This was worship.  This was ministry.  This was people who clearly cared singing about something in which they all believed.

I contrast that with the music at St. Pius X.  The musicians did a wonderful job.  They used modern interprations of some carols and the response between readings was an easy to follow and easy to sing song.  The modern interpretations are interesting to listen to but sometimes challenging to sing when all that is provided are lyrics and not music.  And O Holy Night was sung as a meditation after communion with no opportunity to sing along.  So people listened.  I listened.  It was a very good performance.

But the key is the difference between the two descriptions of what I experienced back to back.  Worship or performance?  Can there be performance that facilitates worship?  Can there be worship without participation?  Is active listening a form of participation?

These are the questions I ponder about my appreciation of music ministry.  St. Pius X now has a "tagline" of invite, transform, act.  So, rather than complaining about the music, I am just making an observation.  And I am challenging myself.  If I like how other church's music ministries feel because they involve more singing by the congregation, whom do I have to invite to make this happen at St Pius X?  (It is not my job only of course.)  Do I have to invite other parishioners to sing out?  Do I have to invite the music ministers to think about the many different ways people are reached?  Do I have to invite myself to being more open to thinking abou how music affects me?

What needs to be transformed?  The music ministry?  My appreciation?  The culture of the parish?  If participation is the key there are many different ways to get there.  And I have to remember that in the same way that running means different things to many different people I know, maybe participation does too.  I am not the only person with a stake in this.  I am not the most knowledgable.  I am not even an authority.  I am just one voice.  And a voice who would like to be heard--singing in worship.

And finally, to act.  I'm not sure what action needs to be taken other than that I will continue to sing at every opportunity I get and encourage others who share my faith and who share my worship experience to do the same.

May all be inspired to sing with joy on this day. 

God Weaves in Pure Joy

The past two days of running have brought one thing--pure joy.  The past two days have not been fast.  But the mornings have been an awerome temperature for running (better Sunday than today).  Neither morning had any pressure attached to it.  And I just went through what I mostly think of as "gliding motion" miles.  The plan I work under calls them GM miles--standing for general maintenance.  But I have come to call them gliding motion.  Everything just feels easy at an 8:22-8:35 pace.  Days like these are the answer to #WhatMakesYouSoar--the question posed by Back on My Feet Baltimore as it prepares for the Sixth Annual Bash in November to celebrate the many miles the many residential and non-residential members have run and to continue to seek new heights for all its members.

The two runs have put me up to 1740 miles.  In some ways this is "exactly what I have been working for."  But in other ways it continues to amaze me.  I am pretty sure I will hit 2000 even before the marathon in Philadelphia.  On my virtual pilgrimage, I'm taking a route up toward Las Vegas rather than directly from Tucumcari to Truth or Consequences.  I'm 45 miles outside of Tucumcari along NM 104 in pretty much the middle of no where.  If this were an actual pilgrimage rather than a virtual one I am pretty sure this would be one of the toughest parts with a need to carry lots of water with me each day.

Along the way for my virtual pilgrimage, it has been wonderful to see what others see in running.  On Sunday, I caught up with my friend Joselyn. I had not run with her in two months.  She told me that she had received her bib number for the Marine Corps Marathon--10023.  That was meaningful to her because she remembered what I had done with my first marathon bib number--1313.  I had chosen to focus on the Bible verse 1 Cor 13:13 for inspiration.  She focused on Psalm 23 ("The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want") and Psalm 100 ("...shout joyfully to the Lord, all you lands...").  Given the tough time she has had preparing for this marathon, she took this as a good sign.  I had not realized that any of my friends still thought back to that type of inspiration I had (and sometimes continue to draw).

In fact, I have been thinking about my goal of 3:09:59 and with 3:09 as the focus, I would choose 1 Samuel 3:9 in which Eli tells Samuel, "go to sleep and if you are called reply, 'Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.'"

Why that one?  Well, it has to do with the rest of the title for this blog entry.  I didn't just call it "pure joy" which I got from my last two runs (and which will be much different from the very challenging run I face in the morning).  I called it God weaves in pure joy.  What did God weave in the midst of my joy yesterday and today?

Well, when I arrived at church and looked at what we would be singing yesterday during the 5:30 mass the responsorial psalm song was an arrangement of "The Lord is My Shepherd."  How interesting that God should have woven two references to that song in my life so close to each other.  Then, Fr Ray in his homily talked about the Gospel reading (Matthew 22:1-14) in which the people who were invited to the king's feast completely underestimated what they were invited to--we should avoid that happening in our lives with respect to what God invites us to.  He also pointed out that the readings talked about God being able to fill our true and deepest hungers and thirsts.

I have thought about what that means.  The Lord is my shepherd, there is nothing I shall want.  I should be happy with what I have.  Material goods.  My running.  My relationships.  I should figure out what is really most important.  And focus on it.  And when God chooses to offer me something (in other words, when God speaks to me), I should be listening.  For it is through listening that I will be led on the way to fulfill my deepest hungers and thirsts.

And experience more ways of feeling pure joy.

Life all comes around.  

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 2, Week 3

Today, I'll be commenting on a post by Metta Integrative Wellness on Facebook.

The post read:

Metta is an "Integrative" wellness center, which means that we provide opportunities to receive combined offerings of holistic and complementary wellness services such as psychotherapy, acupuncture, massage, and more. 

Do you utilize an integrative wellness approach to support your health and well-being? How has this approach enriched your life and your healing journey? We would love to hear from you!

Well, I have an answer. And it has a lot to do with the ways that I seek joy.

I only use a little bit of health care or "alternative" health care. Basically, I go for a massage every once in a while, and I go to the physician when I am ill. I haven't been to a physician for anything preventive in a long time. There will come a time when I will go for Western health care more frequently--when it comes time to get screened for various things on an annual on otherwise regular basis. Maybe some day I will take flu shots more seriously. But right now, I am well.

I am well because of the complete relaxation I allow myself for 90 minutes of massage.

I am well because of an occasional trip to the chiropractor.

I am well because I run.  (On a treadmill at a hotel in London today I ran 10K at 8 min/mile.)

I am well because when I run I run with friends as often as possible. I listen. I speak. I share. I experience the wonders of the world with others.

I am well because I write this blog. It gives me time to think. It gives me a forum to share. It gives me a way to speak out and see if others share the thoughts, feelings, and ideas I have.

I am well because I play music. My bass. My mandolin.

I am well because I occasionally write poetry.

I am well because I attend as many of my children's events as I can. Not all. Unfortunately, that is incredibly difficult with my job. But I attend as many as I can. And after seeing a movie on the flight over, What Maisie Knew, the importance of being there for as many things as possible was re-emphasized. The story was about a child whom neither of her two real parents wanted to slow down their lives for.

I am well because I have a marriage that, while not perfect, brings joy.

I am well because I teach Sunday school.

I am well because I think of myself not just as an individual.  But an individual who is

• part of a family
• part of a church community
• part of a running community
• part of a neighborhood
• part of a university
• part of a school within the university
• part of an office within the school
• part of a blogging community
• part of something bigger than myself

And it is that last part that really brings me to spirituality.  Knowing that there are many things bigger than me that I am a part of.  And trying to figure out what it means.

And to answer the question posed by Metta Wellness--I like to integrate all for my own well-being and joy and hopefully for the well-being and joy of those around me. 

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 1, Week 3

Today, the pink (or as some priests call it "rose-colored") candle on the Advent wreath was lit.  Gaudete Sunday.  The beginning of the week of joy.

And while I am writing this from a British Airways lounge waiting for a flight that is delayed by over two and one-half hours, I have had a day of joy.

Joy of little things.

We got everyone where they needed to be for this morning.  My eight year old was at Patterson Park by 7 AM to get in the ice rink for a game at 8.  And his team won!  He played a great defensive game.

I went to meet a friend to run at the Charm City Run store in Timonium.  I did not have a working cell phone this morning, so I was not able to get the message that the streets were still pretty bad where my friend lives.  As it turned out that was okay.  The streets in Timonium were wet but not icy but I did feel the need to look carefully as the temps were still around 32 degrees.  And once I realized just how many things I had on my to do list before the flight this evening, the lack of someone to run with as a blessing in disguise.  I ran just 3.1 miles in a little under one-half hour rather than 8 or 9 miles.  It just felt good to get my legs going after the race yesterday.  And watching the sky grow light as I took an easy tour around the Timonium/Lutherville area just from the store to Charmuth and Seminary and back again was relaxing.

Then I stopped at Giant on the way home. When I reached home, I had my 14 year old unpack the groceries for me.  I found joy in his ability to identify what I planned for the three meals starting tonight and concluding with the evening of my return on Tuesday.  I also found joy in the fact that when I realized I had forgotten to buy rolls for the steak sandwiches that we served before my ride picked me up tonight, I decided just to whip up some dough.  In less than 10 minutes, we had enough water, yeast, sugar, flour, and salted mixed and kneaded to eventually make six reasonable sized rolls to serve what ended up being open faced steak sandwiches on.  My 14 year old tells me I'm one of the only people who would just do that.  But that shows why baking is such a joy for me and why if I ever get a second tattoo (debateable whether I will or not) it will include breads.  I sometimes feel like Peeta in The Hunger Games--in terms of my ability to make bread.  Not sure I've ever thought of any other similarities.

Then there was the Christmas program.  In all honesty, if our director of religious education ever put it to a vote among catechists, I might just vote to skip Christmas programs for religious education in the future.  But this year we had carols and cookies. And as the director said to me--the kids were cute as anything if nothing else.  A lot of craziness and noise and difficult transitions, but a lot of people sand along and it was just plain fun with a reminder of the real reason for the season.

Then there was mass said by a priest who is 90 years old.  First time I remember seeing him at St Pius and he said a really good mass with a great homily.  More on that tomorrow.

Next we got our tree.  It was an easy choice as this year there was exactly one criterion--narrow.  We found two good candidates within the first minute we were there and quickly made a choice that pleased everyone in my family.  It went up easily with our new (second year) Christmas tree stand.  Some of the moms at ice hockey call it the "marriage saver tree stand" as it is so much easier than the traditional style.

Then, we got to see a great concert of the Wind Orchestra for Peabody Prep.  It was great to see my son and his girlfriend of 2.5 years play again (we just saw them last night too).  They did a great job with the theme from 2001, some songs from the original Star Wars trilogy, songs from Les Miserables, and an incredible clarinet concerto.  More on that later in the week as well.  The other two ensembles that played were also very good.

Finally, making dinner with my eight year old before getting picked up was a blast.  

So many simple things.  And also just appreciating my wife for taking Daniel, for taking Christopher downtown while I dealt with a dead cell phone, for my wife picking up Joshua while I made dinner and got ready to go on my trip.  For my kids in religious education who brought me small gifts.  For the beautiful weather most of the day.  For a trip to Milk and Honey with Sherry and Daniel.  

Joy.  Joy!  JOY!  My heart is filled with joy and I hope it will continue to be.  But a lot of that has to do with me.  Am I ready to take what life gives me and call it joy regardless of what it is?  Obviously some things wouldn't bring joy, but there are many other ways to take the long series of events today that may not be thought of as joy.  I am lucky to see things the way I do.

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 6, Week 2

Today's entry is about preparation in a way that I had not been prepared for.  This goes to show that despite the best and most explicit plans (like writing at the start of the week what I had intended to write about for the whole week) sometimes there are spiritual connections made that come from places we never expect.

In some ways, today's entry will sound like it could be used as a motivation for the entire series or spirituality of Advent writings.  In other ways, what I will be writing about tonight will read like it could be a summary of the entire spiritual experience.  However, I have arrived at this point in the middle of this spiritual exploration of Advent.

Today was the annual Festival of Lights at the Waldorf School of Baltimore.  This is a festival each year that celebrates the many festival of lights that occur at this time of year.  This includes Advent, Hanukah, and Kwanzaa.  Each year a family gets to light the Advent wreath and the Hanukah candles.  This year, the small eighth grade class lit the candles for Kwanzaa.  This year, my family was chosen to light the Advent Wreath.

In the middle of the afternoon, my wife wrote me an email to remind me that I should have my "speech" ready as the spokesperson for the family.  I had thought about what I would say, but this was a clear reminder to me to be prepared for the evening.  Nice to fit into the theme of the week of the candle of preparation.

As the time for the start of the Festival of Lights, I wrote the following on the program for the event:

Pre-Christian
Christian
My Evolution
Prophecy-Hope
Bethlehem-Preparation
Shepherd-Joy
Angel-Love

For this list, I was borrowing directly from http://livinghopeomaha.wordpress.com/about-living-hope/bible-stud/the-meaning-of-the-advent-wreath/http://livinghopeomaha.wordpress.com/about-living-hope/bible-stud/the-meaning-of-the-advent-wreath/.

And here is a paraphrase of what I said:

Tonight, my family has been asked to light the Advent wreath.  If we look at the history of the Advent wreath, there is at least some evidence suggesting that it originated in pre-Christian times.  People lighting fires to bring back the light at the darkest time of year.  Then, Christianity adapted it with symbols of Christ rather than simply avoiding darkness.  

The evolution of the Advent wreath through history reminds me of the evolution of my own understanding.  The wreath here has candles that are all one color.  But sometimes they are two colors.  When I was Daniel and Joshua's ages [they were at the table with the wreath with me and Sherry] all I knew about the third candle which is a different color was that it meant that Advent was almost done.

When I was a little older than my oldest son Christopher, who is not here this evening, and I began to take my faith a little more seriously, I had the experience of the third week of Advent with the entire Catholic community where I attended college being brought together in a single mass to celebrate the joy of the week. 

As I got even more mature and took my faith even more seriously, I realized that there is a rhythm to the meaning of the candles.  There are many different interpretations to what the candles mean.  One that I find useful is the following:

The first candle is for Prophecy and Hope.  The hope for something new and something better as Christians wait for the celebration of the birth of their Savior.

The second is for Bethlehem and Preparation.  Preparation for the birth of the Savior in Bethlehem.

The third is the Shepherds and Joy.  A reminder that the joy was first shared with the shepherds--among the least of those who worshipped God [I felt like I was channeling Father Sam Lupico who loves to point out that most of Jesus's positive interactions with individuals other than his apostles was with those at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder at the time.]

The final candle is for the Angle and Love.  The angel who announced the birth of Jesus.

And whether Christian or non-Christian, the unifying and universal truths of Hope, Preparation, Joy, and Love are things that are worth all of us pondering.

Numerous people told me they liked what I shared.  The mother in the family that lit the Hanukah handles told me that my description of my own experience inspired her to talk about her family's experience.  The one thing that really made an impression on me was that she comments on a blessing that thanked God for the miracles of old and miracles of today.  And she invited all of us to think of a miracle in our lives right now.  I had not realized that I would inspire a second story about the universal nature of the positive values that come through the celebration of the various celebrations of light at this time of year.

Are beliefs interchangeable?  No.

Can everyone possibly be right?  No.

But everyone probably has some kernel of the truth.  And everyone can benefit from the interconnectedness.

The key for me is that spirituality is separate from religion.  Spirituality is driven by the sense of interconnectedness.  Spirituality is driven by the sense that I am a part of something much bigger.  Some call the higher power God.  Some just refer to it as a higher power.  I'm not one to worry about what each person around me calls it.  But I am a person who believes that the interconnectedness that I feel is something special.  A blessing.  A challenge.  And something that helps me to move forward in the most productive manner.      

40 Days to Better: Day 14

Today is Sunday.  Historically held up by Christians as a day of rest.  And I have chosen to rest from running most Sunday's recently.  So, no run today.

I was awakened by animals clamoring for breakfast.  I'll have to walk the dog before leaving to teach Sunday school.

With teaching Sunday school, attending mass, grocery shopping, and some other things around the house, it won't be a complete day of rest by any means.  But it rarely is.

So, what is the lesson today for the road to better?  I'll take up something that Fr. Sam often mentions to parents in the pews at St . Pius X church where we attend.  He tells parents not to worry so much about the kids fussing some.  Without kids who are fussing in the pews now, we won't have older kids who can sit through mass, who then become teenagers who are actively involved, and adults who stay in the parish.  In other words, without children in the pews, we have no future.

Fr. Sam also talks about the "fire in the belly" in terms of excitement about what is going on at church.  Fr. Sam's frequent comments make me think of a recent gathering for catechists across the archdioceses that I was lucky enough to attend, Fr. James Martin talked about the lack of joy and humor in the Catholic church.

Why is that important?  Think of the best science or math teacher you ever had.  What did they do that made them the best?  They probably did something to make you see how exciting the subject was.  We could call that joy.

Father Martin mentioned how little excitement or joy we show in how we conduct mass as Catholics, how we attend mass as Catholics, and how we teach to our children.  Obviously, not every teacher or every parishioner or every priest lacks joy in the way they present what we do.  But many do.

So, as I enter this year, I will focus on bringing joy to my classroom.  First, my joy.  Maybe that will be contagious.

I know that when I talk about my running, I show joy.

When I tell the story behind my tattoo--which actually relates to my faith--I show joy.

When I talk about my marriage--I show joy.

Even when I talk about my job--most of the time--I show joy.

That joy is essential to my life.  I am an optimist. I am usually a happy optimist.  I get joy from a lot of things.

That joy, as we were reminded in a recent catechist preparation class at St Pius, is a fruit of the Holy Spirit.  A gift from God (as the Holy Spirit is part of the Holy Trinity.)  That joy is something that I am called on to share--through running, story-telling in general, work, and teaching about God, as well as any other positive pursuit I may have in life.  

Running Camaraderie

Today, I had a wonderful run that was divided into three sections--eight miles alone at a 7:03 pace during which I saw many other runners on the trail including some I had known through previous participation in training groups with Charm City Run and two neighbors.  This gave me little time to think to clear my brain--as when I keep this pace, I am mostly thinking about one thing.  KEEP RUNNING HARD.  This turned out to be like my tempo workout for the week.  When I am "only" training for a half marathon, I do need to do tempo runs, but I don't need quite as far long runs since I only need to race 13.1 rather than 26.2.

After I finished the first eight, I came upon the rather large half and full marathon training groups for CCR this summer/fall.  I had a chance to catch up with some runners I had not seen in a very long time.  But other than saying "Wow, it has been a while, how are you doing?" it was just like I had been there since my last official training season with CCR that ended with the Baltimore Running Festival in 2011.

Then, I did 3.5 miles with a friend whom I did not run with often when I was part of a CCR training group.  A much slower pace, but there was nothing wrong with that.  It was the right pace for my friend as we could carry on a reasonable conversation and my first CCR coach always used to say that was a good way to determine if you were running the right pace for a Saturday long run.

After that, I left my friend to complete her 16 and I ran back to my car a bit harder so that I would be home to participate in other family activities for the day.

Other than simply reporting on the run, what is my bigger lesson for today?  First, sometimes even in one morning, I can experience three different levels of running--all of which mean different things.  First, just the freedom to go.  Second, sharing the joy of running with another--no matter how far apart we may be in any race.  I try to share the long run every week, but I haven't shared with this particular friend in a long, long time.  Third, showing myself that I could pick up the pace again after a slower section of the run.

And the other thing that I was reminded of today after months of running mostly either in very small groups or with one individual at a time, I found myself as part of a very large group.  Yes, because I have been away from CCR for a while, I didn't recognize all the faces.  But it was just amazing to feel the energy.  The camaraderie.  The shared sense of purpose.  A very spiritual experience.  I would be tempted to say a "religious" experience but that would imply rules and structure.  There was no need for rules and structure.  There was only a need for that feeling of shared purpose, shared interest, and a shared outlook on a key part of our lives.  Having been so long since I was part of a large group, I had forgotten just how amazing this could be.  I won't officially rejoin a training group any time soon as my schedule would not allow me to part of the group frequently enough.  But I may try to find ways to tap into that feeling at least once in a while moving ahead.  

Marathon Time and Bible Verses

Time has put enough distance between the events on Monday and me for me to really start processing what happened on Monday. This is more than a gut reaction.  This is more than first feelings.  This is now trying to sort things out.

Many runners I know have recently posted Psalm 26:2.  Obviously a reference to the marathon distance.  The verse (from the New American Bible Revised Edition) is:

   Examine me, Lord, and test me;
   search my heart and mind

Usually following this will be a phrase about how the marathon runner at the end of the race is not the same as the marathon runner at the start of the race.  I knew that was true all along.  At least one friend had commented before my first marathon about how she learned something each time she participated in a marathon.  I would have to say that this is more true for me this time than any other time.  There were things I learned about running a race that I will address later and things I  learned about my reaction to bad events (which I will also comment on later).  Although I suppose in the same way that as part of a three day retreat long ago that talked about how to live in the proverbial "fourth day" the reactions I have had are mostly about how to deal with the proverbial 27th mile.

But this Bible verse was not of my finding and was about the distance a marathon always is rather than about my number (which I wrote about back on 13-March using some verses that had to do with parables--how fitting since I use story telling to sort things out and one of the verses I found for my time is a short parable) or my time 3:15:56.  My time was very close to 3:16:00 which a friend had told me long ago would lead to the obvious John 3:16.  But since I came in 4 seconds under 3:16 and I value those 4 seconds, I tried to find something using my exact time to help me make sense of the events around me.

For that, I chose two things.  Verses of joy.  And verses of sorrow.  Together they will help me to initiate a healing process in my own mind, heart, and soul.  A process by which I will find the strength to face all things--running or otherwise--that challenge me and not run from or hide from the challenges and risks that I face in life.

First verses: Gospel #3 (given the typical order of Matthew, Mark, LUKE, and John), Chapter 15, verses 5 and 6.  

   And when he does find it, he sets it on his shoulders with 

     great joy

   and, upon his arrival home, he calls together his friends and 

     neighbors and says to them, ‘Rejoice with me because I

     have found my lost sheep.’

Anyone familiar with this verse knows that the Pharisees were accusing Jesus of choosing to spend time with sinners and tax collectors and that the "found after being lost" sheep was symbolic for a repentent sinner.  However, the verse can be taken out of context a little as we recognize the simple joy of finding something or someone that was lost or that was feared lost.  I cannot express the enormity of the gratitude I felt on Monday as people checked in on me or commented after I had checked in on FB (or by a text with my wife). I was the sheep that was thought to be lost or at least people were worried I might have been lost.  There was a joy for others in knowing of my safety.  And there was a joy for me in being able to share my safety.  Not that a sheep is sentient enough to have feelings and state in any way that it is happy to have found its shepherd, but certainly in the context of Jesus's short parable the repentent sinner takes great joy in finding comfort.  I took great joy in having already retrieved my stuff so that I could be in communication with those who were so worried about me.  And I feel the safety and camaraderie of the "flock" of runners I was with that day and the fact that runners share a bond that makes all feel like a community around the city, around the country, and around the world taking strength from being a group.

The verses of sorry: Psalm 31 Verses 5-11 (11 being 5+6):

Free me from the net they have set for me,
for you are my refuge
Into your hands I commend my spirit;
you will redeem me, LORD, God of truth.
You hate those who serve worthless idols,
but I trust in the LORD.
I will rejoice and be glad in your mercy,
once you have seen my misery,
[and] gotten to know the distress of my soul.
You will not abandon me into enemy hands,
but will set my feet in a free and open space.
Be gracious to me, LORD, for I am in distress;
affliction is wearing down my eyes,
my throat and my insides.
My life is worn out by sorrow,
and my years by sighing.
My strength fails in my affliction;
my bones are wearing down.

No one was setting a net specifically for me.  We still don't know whether the two accused of being the bombers (one being dead and the other being in a hospital as I write this) targeted any ONE specifically.  What we do know is that they set a trap for someone or some cause.  And throughout, my religion has been part of my refuge.  Even on Monday, I commended my spirit and sense of self to God.  I am not accusing Islam in general of serving worthless idols (although I know some do).  But anyone of any faith who indiscriminately kills and injures young and old and those who thought there were in a safe and joyful family environment is serving some idol that is not worth anything in my book.  It could be an ideology.  It could be a cause.  It could simply be for fame.  It is not the God I serve.  I have felt miserable this week many times.  I am glad to be alive.  This event was too close for comfort.  I will discuss later the many different ways in which I interpret close that could eiher have made me close or not to the events on Monday.  I feel the verse about not abandoning me into enemy hands but setting my feet into an open space sort of representing the fact that I was on the subway and released to the open area of Boston's city hall at the next subway stop.  It may have even more meaning if at least one of the two accused men was at the same subway station at the same time.  I cannot say the latter for sure, but there was a young man who made a comment that seemed awfully out of place at the time and who looked at least vaguely like pictures of the suspect in the hospital this morning.  Will return to that later as well.  When I first came upon the verses here earlier this week, I would not have claimed years of sighing and affliction, but I was definitely feeling in distress.  My eyes were being worn down from watching all the bad news.

But now that I can juxtapose the sorrowful verses and joyful verses that I relate to my time on Monday and I continue to think about what it all means, I think my psyche is on the road to recovery.  The memories of Monday will remain with me for a lifetime.  For example, where was I when the Boston marathon 2013 bombing occurred?  On the green line of the T headed toward Haymarket where we had intended to transfer to the orange line. But despite the memories being there and strong for the rest of my life, I will move onward.  Not leaving that day behind.  But making that day part of a life long learning process that makes me stronger.