I ran four miles this morning in the dark mist. Potholes and pine combs threatened my footing. Hills burned my lungs. A couple of insights about life popped into my head — answers to questions I have sought for a couple of years. Somewhere around my third mile I understood why I am the way I am. That gave me another ten minutes to chew on that before my day started (which does as soon as I head back into the door).
I don’t recommend running for everyone. And I understand when people say they hate it. There are days when I hate it, too. But the drug that keeps me coming back is the insight that comes from my time thinking. (Well, the endorphins rock as well).
As I was driving to work, I noticed the clouds off to the east of I-55. There was one hole of sunlight peeking its way through the gloom. That’s what this morning’s run gave me.
I’m humbled. I flawed. I’m a slow runner. But more than anything, I am grateful. Moses had his burning bush. I have awkward and painful runs.
Thanks be to God.