I was never much of a runner in high school. It seems running has gained popularity in recent years or maybe it's that I've come around to this pastime and given it more attention over the last several years. In giving it more of my attention, I'm now aware of running gear and magazines and the latest technology be it shoes or GPS systems to track distance and time. Nevertheless, it was "not my thang" until I went off to college. In high school, it was volleyball-basketball-track, repeat. Year after year. And track, well, I didn't participate willingly, but was HIGHLY encouraged (or rather it was decided for me) by my father who very firmly believed in "off season" training. In his wisdom, he knew we (the girls I played with) wouldn't perform well in volleyball and basketball if we sat out track season and laid around all summer long. So, I did learn to run in track, but it was a bit unwillingly.
I'm back in Powers for the holidays and have been working the old stomping grounds, pushing it up that hill more than usual. This morning, I had several flashback to those track workouts and in so had a little insight into life. Those track workouts were unpleasant, mostly because our coach made us run hills with 5 pound leg weights. You might not think that's much, but the hill I'm referring to is no small feat. '"Run 5 hills and then you're done," coach trumped as he handed me two bright blue sand-filled bags with black velcro straps to wrap around my ankles.' UGH!
This morning, starting out 2012 with a healthy dose of resolve, I went and ran hills (albeit minus the extra weight). No, it was not pleasant. No, I did not run 5. I ran 2.5, walked the remaining, and was satisfied that I could still run that hill. I tackled it PARTLY because I took up running as a pastime after high school to try and stay in shape, which means I've learned to enjoy running. I tackled it MOSTLY by sheer will of my mind and body. The Nike slogan, "Just do it," might suffice to describe my sentiments toward this feat.
Here is my profound point amidst the throw back to nearly (gulp!) 20 years, I know how I get through pain. I did it this morning when I ran those hills and I don't think I'm alone or special in the use of this particular strategy. I wore a hat this morning because it was raining. The hat became an imperative piece of clothing in undergirding this strategy. I put my head down and just ran. I could see out of the sides of my view and I have the cracks of the hill and Cruiser footprints imbedded in my memory so I knew where I was and how much further I had to go, but for the life of me, the thought of looking up and seeing the corner and then the top of the water tower was too crushing a sight and even thought to make myself look up from under my cap. So, like I said, I put my head down and ran.
I do this when things seem tough. I do this when I think things are going to be tough. It's a coping mechanism that has worked and pushed me to get through. I focus on the little tasks, the cracks in the road, the small imminent details of school, work, family, friends…focus on the little things and the big things either disappear, in some cases, or are dissolved by finishing the small things. On one hand, I think this is a mighty great strategy in accomplishing goals, but it's only useful if you've stopped long enough to set the big goals and work toward them. On the other hand, it's a lousy plan if you lose sight of your surroundings (family, friends, life etc.) because you've focused on the details and grit to get through.
Oh my, I do not claim in this to have an answer to the juxtaposition I present. I'm merely presenting it as my own insight and possibly as a challenge to the way I move through life. It reminds me of a saying I think is common in our culture, "Your greatest strength may also be your greatest weakness."
So, in this new year, 2012, I am going to continue to put my head down and work hard, but I am also going to work on the balance of looking up more often to see the water tower ahead, to check myself in the going and not bury my head 'til it's over…because it's really never over.
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