Certainty of Uncertainty?

For those who like certainty,

Scanning the streets of Baltimore,

At 5:45 on a Tuesday morning,

You will find two runners out and about.

The certainty is in seeing these two

Almost every Tuesday

For the last six years.

The course the two runners follow

Is almost as certain.

Most weeks winding up and down familiar hills

Through familiar neighborhoods

With certain and familiar smells.

Smells like the bread from the industrial bakery

On the south side of the course.

But one morning,

The runners missed the smell of bread,

And instead a few blocks later smelled meat.

There was no doubt it was from a pig,

But the regular runners debated

Whether it was ham or sausage.

After about a block of discussion

The consensus was ham,

Maybe to be served with pancakes or French toast

At a local breakfast joint.

While that was just a small part

Of the run and discussion that morning,

The uncertainty led to interesting discussion

With certainty.

       With how much certainty

       Do other instances of uncertainty

Create interesting conversations or connections?

On the Seventh Day I Ran Alone

The week began after what would normally be

The last long week of marathon training for me.

But I planned to run sixty miles this week, with a long one,

While seeing just how many smiles for other runners

I could manage.

On the first four days,

I ran with a different person each day.

Listening to four unique stories.

Sharing some parts of my life multiple times.

Sharing some parts of my life specifically relevant to each fellow runner.

I’ve known them for as many as seven years

Or as few as two.

On the fifth day I ran with the runners from days two and three

And had a good run by the boat in the harbor for fleet week

Noting that there was more security than in past years.

On the sixth day I was on the local rail trail

For the first time in months

With the running partner with whom I’ve been running longest.

She joined me for more than thirteen of the twenty

I ran that morning.

We had a long talk,

Reflecting on many things we have talked about before

And adding some things that were new that day.

I made her laugh while running south,

And it was good.

On the seventh day I was able to reach sixty miles.

On that seventh day, I ran alone.

The alone time gave me a chance to barely speak,

And to appreciate the runs earlier in the week.

One time running alone makes me appreciate

All the time on runs with my running family.

For time is the most precious thing I can share

And sharing time running builds lasting friendships

As we exercise, struggle and share together

Over and over,

With one thing that keeps us together,

A desire to share uninterrupted time

Over and over.

That means something.

That means family.

Real Miles

A lived mile is a real mile.

In a lived mile I am present for…

Every one of the thousand or more foot striking strides.

Every drop of sweat—

   Glistening on every square inch of my exposed skin,

   Pooling on the small of my back,

   Spewing in every direction in the summer heat,

   And soaking through any shirt I may wear,

   Making me want to throw on a dry shirt

   Before walking the farmers’ market after a Sunday run

   Or before I enter a fellow runner’s dwelling place.

Every breath and heart beat

   Oxygenating blood and moving

   It to striving muscles.

Every sight,

Every sound, and

Every smell of my city

Every drop of rain,

   And flake of snow,

   And gust of wind when the weather is not perfect.

Every glorious sunrise

   When the weather is perfect.

And when I am lucky enough to be

In the presence of another runner,

My lived mile is being present for…

Every shared stride,

Every coordinated turn,

Every life story,

Every word spoken,

Every word heard,

Every smile shared,

Every high five,

Every hug at the end of a run.

Being present for the mile makes it real.

Recording or reporting it does not augment reality.