Love of Life

"So here's what Coach Vigil was trying to figure out: was Zatopek a great man because he ran? Vigil couldn't quite put his finger on it, but his gut kept telling him that there was some kind of connection between the capacity to love and the capacity to love running. The engineering was certainly the same: both depended on loosening your grip on your own desires, putting aside what you wanted and appreciating what you got, being patient and forgiving and undemanding. Sex and speed - haven't they always been symbiotic for most of our existence, as intertwined as the strands of our DNA? We wouldn't be alive without love; we wouldn't have survived without running; maybe we shouldn't be surprised that getting better at one could make you better at the other.


[...]

Vigil, as old man alone in the woods, suddenly felt a burst of immorality. He was onto something. Something huge. It wasn't just how to run; it was how to live, the essence of who we are as a species and what we're meant to be."

"His love of life shone through every movement."

-Chris McDougall, Born to Run (98-99)

This morning I set out for a 7-mile run; the last time I ran that distance was three months ago in Chicago when I felt the first onset of my IT band challenges. Coupled with the fact that I had already ran three times this week (and thus drastically increased my total miles), I had enough nerves to induce a tic.

I took myself into town for a change of scenery and as I started at an easy lope through the park, I willed myself to relax. Eight am on a September Sunday morning - long rays of the sun angled down through the trees as only myself and a dog-walker crunched down the gravel.

Humid, yet cool, I ran through the familiar neighborhood. Hard to believe that in a month I will have been in Eastern North Carolina for five years, edging out Chicago as the second longest I've ever lived in one place.

Yesterday I subjected myself to a deep tissue massage that confirmed I still have a lot of work to do on my right hamstring. Today, while running, the knee spasmed twice, the precursor to the locking pain from before; both times, I found myself refocusing on my form. Turning my right leg out. Pushing my foot into the ground.

And it eased.

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As a runner, I certainly don't believe myself to be any better at living life, at loving, than everyone else around me. But I do believe there is something to this idea of losing oneself in an activity in pure joy. A dedicated swimmer or cyclist or climber or yogi all has the capacity to tap into the beautiful energy that is this joy - love in its pure form.

I know, I'm sounding wacky, but hear me out.

Let's take Mary here for a second.

Even the act of basking in the sunlight - this moment of pure mindfulness - can bring about this connection.

As children, this comes so easily.

As we grow, we often lose it.

As a runner, I'm so glad to have found a way to access it again and again and again.

Above picture is slide number 12 of 16 from a project of recasting 60 year old slides purchased from Father & Sons Antiques in Raleigh in new light. Check out @erinwouldratherwalk on Instagram for more.