It would be arrogant if I defined it. But it would also be true.

But at times I feel that God gave me a gift. Not in the genetically endowed sense. Nor in the conventional wisdom of uncanny ability. But rather a simple and pure form of happiness that has defined so much of my life.

And because it has guided me stronger than any compass could have, I feel I must use this gift to the best of my ability.
I must work at it, hammer it, forge it, sharpen it, and then break it down to make it better. This is the distance project.

From this gift has spawned a love that is hard to define.

Not love as it is described with such facility in popular magazines. But love that is order and encouragement, hope and support, and an unwavering and infinite object to purse.

It requires nothing more than the will to move yourself rapidly through space. (Sometimes more rapidly than others ☺ )

But today was one of those moments when I felt compelled to use this gift to the most my body would let me. After an “all-clear” from arguably the finest orthopedist in the country, I waited for my vocation to end for the day, so I could begin play.

After one day’s rest, I felt fresh and light.

3 miles: Staring to remember how this thing goes.

6.5 miles, ready to turn around the Charles.

7 miles: Yes, heaven does exist in Roxbury.

8 miles: Down the sand of the golf course, almost at that point.

9 miles: Street Light = Boylston Street

11 miles: No energy remains. Every sinew of my mind and body are firing to sustain my maximal oxygen uptake.

Stop. Breathe. Puke.

Check vitals.

… Still breathing.

Start cooling down in the woods. Say hi to woman and dog who clearly are alarmed at my physical state.

2 miles of pine needles.




...I may never run this hard again for this long. It may be the pinnacle of my training for two years

And no one knew. No one was watching.

All that is left is a mess in a parking lot that will be gone in a few hours. A few photos, and a memory seared into my fiber deeper than a 4th degree burn.

To the layperson, this may not sound like a gift. It may sound like 13 miles of concussive agony, ending in violent turmoil of both mind and body.

But to me it is something I thank God for every day.

It is something without which, my will, my sanity, and my temperament would extinguish

It has been said that .."from everyone who has been given much, much will be required; and to whom they entrusted much, of him they will ask all the more."

Witness my gift.

A Little Harder

When I was running today in Narnia, I became acutely aware on this first day of spring recess, where I was one year ago. Perhaps it was the cloudless sky, or the barren landscape that is Narnia in late winter. But one thing became painfully clear:

It isn’t what it was last year.

One year ago this day I returned from a voyage wherein I discarded all the preconceptions I once had about a place, a project, and a people.

As I reflect now, vicariously through those who carry on this tradition today, I find myself amidst a sea of emotion. For the single week I spent in Newark was one that is always hard to forget.

It taught me how to sacrifice, how to suffer, and how to appreciate what I have now – Moreover.

Some of us here didn’t partake, and that’s fine. Not all are called to serve in such a capacity. But for those of us who are, I remember what it was like to participate in such a grand experience, and the memory it forged.

I will fail if I try, to recapture everything that trip taught me. But I do know this:

What I learned of those people and that school was merely a figment of what occurs around the world. Everyday.

There is discrimination in this world. And slavery. And slaughter. And starvation. But there is also opportunity for those who seek it.

A speech one young man made to the children of South Africa on their day of affirmation in 1966 sums it up the best.

“We can perhaps remember, even if only for a time – That those who live with us are our brothers. And they seek, as we do, to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness - Seeking whatever fulfillment or satisfaction they can. And perhaps we can work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us, to become brothers and country-men once again.”

That is why I work harder today. And why I thank God for everything I have, and pray for those who do not.

Consistency

More times than not, I find myself swept away in my daily activities, often disregarding the concerns of others, for at the end of a day I feel I have nothing left.

It may seem callous, but I assure you there is no malice in conjunction with this propensity.

It takes a lot for me to notice something isn’t functioning correctly. And the last week has taught me what it means to live, to laugh, and to do the very thing that keeps you sane in a world that yields most painfully to play.

A friend whom I had not yet seen in many a day returned from boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina. A man whom I knew well as a strong and distinctive individual, was hammered in the blast furnace of the Carolinian heat, tempered by the finest fighting force in the history of Christian civilization, and emerged a United States Marine.

What was illustrious of this was not the title he earned.

What he became was not simply honorable, though honored it is;

Nor is it a sign of strength, though strong it is;

It is merely the proof of one who remained the very person he was before he entered.

I would submit to you this is the ultimate measure of fortitude. When pushed to the brink of breaking one’s mental state, exceeding the body’s physical limits, and giving immeasurable personal sacrifice. It is here when the human will is most vulnerable. Yet his, remained strong.

In the few short days I was able to spend with Mike Petty, we did, along with our other running buddies, what we know best. We ran.

We carved out time of our schedules, we ran in the dark when no one could see us. We traversed iced rivers, and fell through. And we recognized that despite time, we were truly one in the same.

How is it that one pastime, one passion, or one simple activity can re-unite persons whom have dramatically altered their lives, for the noblest of reasons. A Marine, a law student, and a MBA student; How is it that such polarizing goals in life can seem to meld into such a harmonious illustration of simple passion for one sport. I submit to you the sport transcends these ambitions.

Moreover, it is the drive in each of us that propels us to exceed in our vocations, as it does in our avocations.

Whatever the costs may be, and wherever life may lead us henceforth, it can be stated without unequivocal certainty, that the roads will be waiting.

Hats off, Mike Petty.

Is it the struggle or is it a will to suffer.

I haven’t been able to answer this. I haven’t been able to write as I long to do. Today I found myself ahead in my work, behind in my feelings, and ready to assign to this writing the attributes of a victory.

About a month ago, I began working at a corporate law firm, dealing with clients who’s names you’ve probably heard of, and the persons who are under their monetary might perhaps less known.

It isn’t an evil business. It is a quest for equity. But what is evil is depriving myself liberty. That is, a soul’s right to breathe.

But that isn’t what this is about. It’s about an expression of freedom and the apex of my enjoyment.

Behind this titanic legal force lies pond, surrounded by several trails. In a wind-swept, wet evening, when ice still remains, but mud persists also, I ran.

There is a certain portion of said matrix wherein a lengthy footbridge connects two parcels of forest, separated by a field of wheat. Witness Elysium.

I certainly am not a hero, and I certainly am not a multi-theist. But I can only imagine the lavish and total appeasements that lie in such a place - Reserved for the bravest of ancient Rome.

I ran through this 8 mile course of ebullition without effort. Nearing the end, covered in rain, scarred by nature’s lashes, and unyielding in the pitch dark, I found something about physiological effort. I left my senses. I could feel the very sinews of my constitution fire with divine precision. And I have not forgotten it.

The limits of the human mind are bound only by the conscience’s cynicism. So when one works to abolish all the chains of impediments, and shatters the windows of dissent, one finds what they were engineered to become.

This comfort in pain is not restricted to this instance - Or in one of your own experience(s).

It transcends what we view as the ordinary. Whether it is the definite and seasonable terms of a relationship, whether a titanic decision in the world of steel and glass canyons, or perhaps the next 26 miles and 385 yards of your life’s fabric, you will find it.