Marshall Ramsey

Monday’s Prayer: Remind me that all I have is the moment that I’m in and allow me to make the most of it.

Running is as much of a mental exercise for me as it is physical one.  I get up at 4:15 a.m., hit the road when I am exhausted, attack hills I could avoid and usually feel my lungs and legs burn. My mind wanders (one of the benefits of running that time of day is that you dodge fewer cars). I think about all the problems in the world. I think about my own problems and ways I can solve them. Sometimes my mind wanders too much. I try to focus on just my breathing to pull it back in.  Running is almost like meditation for me.  For one hour, it is just me and my breathing.  I try to live in the moment. I try to seize the day.

As I am getting older, time seems to be passing faster.  I’m trying to learn how to grasp onto it for dear life.  My dad and I spoke a few minutes this weekend about aging. He’s now getting to the point physically where he remembers his dad being when he got older.  Dad’s still in very good shape — but it is a lesson that is not missed on me.  As I get older, I want to make sure I’ve taken good care of myself.  I might die tomorrow or I might life to 100. But if I do live to 100, I want to make sure I have some quality of life.  I don’t want to be a comatose person sitting in the corner of a nursing home. Hell no. I’ve seen that before and there is a big difference between living and being alive.

I want to live.

So I exercise to live. I eat well to live.  I live to, well, live.

The sun is sleeping in these days, so I left the house in the dark.  It was 6 a.m.  Lord knows I could have used the sleep. But I was a good boy who listened to the angel on his shoulder, not the devil. I crawled out of bed, took Pip the dog outside and then got ready to run.  I set out toward the Natchez Trace and hit the Multipurpose Trail. The humidity was up today — today’s run was much harder than last week’s.  Scrounging for water (I bring a bottle with me and then live off the land) I ended up drinking three quarts.  My socks got wet. And then my shoes (which means it is like running with concrete blocks on your feet).

I ran toward Old Canton Road and then cut back toward the Reservoir. I ran into friends and saw a couple of deer.  A giant swan swam along the shoreline. Clouds obscured the shoreline but that was ok.  The Reservoir’s mood changes with the sky.

Eleven miles later, my legs are tired.  I burned 1,770 calories and probably sweated a gallon.  I listen to a great book while I ran.  I’m glad I ran my long run.  Humidity and all.

Ran without my music again this morning. Was treated to a symphony of bugs, wind blowing in the pines and several deer rustling in the woods. It was 4:30 a.m. and pitch black.  I was just running, listening to my footfalls and breathing.  Various muscles were sore. I felt my age. No, I felt older.

This has been a busy summer. I’m finishing up my third book in three months.  I’ve lost a beloved dog and had a new one burrow into my heart. I haven’t slept much.  I’ve burned the candle at both ends and in the middle.

But I have continued to exercise.  I thought about that as I ran this morning — how important my fitness plan has been to my survival and success this summer.

My book will be out in a few weeks.  And I’ll be running again — this time around the state promoting it. I thought about that, too, as I ran in the dark. My heart beat quickly as I finished up my run this morning.

I have never felt more alive.