This summer I took up running...well technically jogging...well technically its a mix of running and walking.

I took it up on a whim.  A friend was visiting and he said he was going to go for a run.  "A run," I thought.  "A run sounds nice."  I quickly got up and changed and put on some running shoes before my common sense caught up with my brain, because, well...I don't run.

As I took the jog around the neighborhood I looked for side streets so no one would bear witness to the horrible sight of my struggle.  But as I ran, I began to think.  Besides the music pumping through my headphones into my brain giving me the beat to which my feet should hit the pavement, my mind was racing.  I thought about how hard it was.  I thought about how good it was.  I thought about how I needed to do this continually so I could hike and run and play in Colorado where my oxygen supply would be far less.  I thought about keeping up with my athletic friends out there, and climbing mountains and that only fueled the desire to run.

I jogged 2-3 times a week for a couple weeks prior to my departure.  I got to Colorado and quickly picked up my new found hobby again as I had most days to myself.  It was a lot harder there.  My lungs would burn long before my legs ached.  In Colorado though, I found the joy of pushing myself.  I saw progress as each time I would go out I noticed that I could run longer and longer, with shorter breaks in between.  I loved the feeling of setting a goal and then having to push myself  to get there; of concentrating on making my legs take one more step-one more step-one more step. 

I would go jogging in the morning, and some mornings it felt like it was the only thing I had control over.  Some mornings after fighting on the phone with family or confusion washed over me, a run around the neighborhood cleared my mind and calmed me down.  There was familiarity of the path as I zigzagged up and down the streets and the cool-down walk in the park.  Then there was the bitter climb of 4 stories to reach Jolene's apartment where I would stumble in and lay on the floor, waiting for my heart rate to normalize, and the sweat to quit pouring out.  Sometimes I would lay in her room and watch the ceiling fan turn round and round and just smile.  Because I had accomplished something.  Because I had made it farther than I did the day before, because this run was a good run.

I lived in the presence in those moments.  It was about the run that day, the ache in my legs, concentrating on drawing in oxygen as efficiently as possible.  It was about the next goal point.  The sound of my feet hitting the pavement. 

I got back to Ohio and life kicked in and I forgot the joy of running.  The joy of the solitude, of the challenge, of pushing myself more and more.  Then last week, I decided to take it up again.

Today was a difficult run.  I couldn't get into the groove.  My legs complained from the really great run I had on Saturday.  My side protested with spurts of pain.  I just couldn't find my groove.  I thought about turning around and just going home.  But then I decided to push myself even harder.  Of making bigger goals for myself and concentrating to make sure I reached those goals.  The time came for me to leave so I could meet a friend, and I realized I still WANTED to run.  It turned out to be a brilliant run, and I would have lost it if I didn't stick with it. 

I see a parallel to life right now.  I made a decision, a good one.  I was met with resistance at first, I couldn't find my groove, I wasn't sure exactly what I should do.  I thought about throwing in the towel and returning to what I knew.   But I stuck with it, and I need to stick with it.  Because eventually I'll figure it out and find my groove. And it will turn out to be brilliant. 

Here's to finding my stride and keeping it! 

I have this friend and they inspire me.  Not by fancy words or exciting actions, but by authenticity and passion.  There is something in their soul that reaches out and ignites mine...and I can't quite put my finger on it.  I understand more and more, it is relationships like these, that I fear the most.  I wait for the bottom to drop out of them, for disappointment to rise so that high that I can not swim out of it, or simply, for them to disappear. 

It really is a senseless fear, and yet it is one that catches in my subconscious and manifests in the most ridiculous ways.  As I shared my fear today over the phone of not being able to see them, of them not wanting to come and see me, my friend just chuckled.  They simply took my blurb of words, demeanor, and fears that I had just spilled out onto them, and very poetically told me I should write a book called "intensity".  I defended myself half heartedly, chuckling at the image they conjured in their vivid description for the book cover.  They are right.  I am intense. 

I'm intense because I am passionate, and perhaps that is why I am so drawn to my friend.  Passion it seems, is a language we both speak fluently.  Passion is a tricky thing though.  It can be reckless.  It has the ability to be very self-involved.  It can drive you crazy when it manifests irrationally. 

But...it can also do great things.  Amazing things.  I venture to say any great thing that was created or changed wouldn't have been done with out passion.  Passion also inspires.

You can be passionate about all sorts of things.  Sports.  People.  Organizations.  Relationships.  Dreams.  Goals. 
Nothing is off limits...and yet the struggle is to find something worthy for you to be passionate about.   My friend is passionate about life.  About the journey.  About people and relationships.  About the day.  It breeds a hope that overflows in them and radiates onto others.  Onto me.  Hope, inspiration, all flowing out of one single source.  Passion. 

Only passions, great passions, can elevate the soul to great things.
-- Denis Diderot

I want to create a memory

So I can hold onto this moment

Windows down

Air blowing in

Smiles upon our face

Like nothing, nothing can touch us

 

I want to create a memory

So I can remember you just like this

Prior the complicated

and the situations

When we were just living

Before, oh before the loss of our innocence

 

I want to create a memory

So when I think of you, I think of this

Face relaxed

Laced with contentment

Tapping the wheel in time with the rhythm

Without the slightest trace of sorrow shadowing

 

Things were different then

Though one thing remains the same

No matter the state, our connection stays

But I want to create a memory

A precious memory

So I remember us this way.