Run

Raindrops spattered the windshield. Lively chatter emanated from the front seat. And I looked out the window, staring at the overcast sky, thinking about what I was heading out to do.

A long time ago, when I was younger and lankier, I used to run. I ran in school, during P.E. time, and I had chopped my mile time down to about 7.4 at my best. However, that was...a long time ago.

Starting running again within the last couple months has been a challenge. I stand at the start point, staring at the concrete circle called Buttercup Lane and think about how many times I have to go around before I'm done. How fast can I go tonight?

I've been working on my mile time. But after signing up for Bloomsday, in May, I decided it was probably time for me to work on my distance, not so much my speed. More ostrich than cheetah. Or tortoise than hare, as the case may be.

We quit running out at Buttercup a few runs ago, mostly because running 10 circles or more around that silly loop gets monotonous after awhile. We graduated to running down the road.

All of this flitted through my mind as I stared out at the overcast sky and heard some comment about "wet rats" coming from the front seat. I knew I'd be wet when I was done. I also imagined I'd be dead.

New running shoes hit the pavement. Arms swung in anticipation. And when the timer on Kezzia's phone proclaimed, "Beginning workout," the steady pound of foot on asphalt accompanied me down the road.

We got the end of the pavement, almost a mile in itself, and turned around. About that time, my companions stopped for a breath. Stopping would be my undoing, so I didn't.

The distance between me and the parked car lessened, one step at a time. The image grew from fuzzy to sharp and soon I reached the door. To keep running, I had to go around the car a couple of times to get my outer jacket inside and the door shut again.

Fire burned in my legs, a heaviness in my chest. But something goaded me on. C'mon, you can make it to the top of that hill. Okay, seriously, why not to that driveway right down there? And how about we just make it the bottom of that hill? See, it wasn't so long after all. Hey, how about all the way to the highway?

I didn't go all the way to the highway. Fun does come to an end at some point. I stopped at 2.3 miles and as I walked, I felt like I was floating along, making no effort at all.

Jessica and Kezzia came down the hill and ran to where I had stopped. Ahead of them, I paused along the road and waited.

In the breathless silence, I closed my eyes and lifted my face to the rain. Raindrops lightly kissed my cheeks and forehead, birds sang tunes all around me, and a satisfying burn enveloped everything in me. And that's when it dawned.

A race. Run with patience. Obtaining reward at the end.

It's a long way. But not so long after all.
It burns. But it's a satisfying burn.
Ir rains. But there's a specialness to having your face wet with Heaven's tears of joy.

Run the race with patience.
And let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing.

Run.
Burn.
Rain.
Smile.

One of the best feelings on earth.