run 5 times a week

As I went for a run yesterday evening, being rendered completely oblivious to the silence of night, I was startled by a voice calling to me from the shadows. Two young women were sitting outside their home as I proceeded to run past and they asked of me this simple question “aren’t you afraid running at midnight? don’t you feel scared?” Having given little consideration to this thought – I responded honestly without a moment’s contemplation “no”. Their bewildered faces seemed to demand further explanation and so I explained as best I could that the solidarity of night afforded me the only time in my day without distraction – it allowed me the time and space to embrace my deepest thoughts without interruption and find much needed balance in the symmetry of the universe.

To be ruled by fear in this instance would deprive me of one of the most sacred times of my day¦ it made me wonder just how many people confine themselves in a perimeter of brick and mortar because they fear that which lingers in the dark peace of night. There are places on earth where such fears are justified, where great danger lurks in dark shadows threatening captivity, exploitation and death but in our sovereign land I find myself exceedingly blessed with the freedom which I seek. I hope I shall never have to look back on these times and utter the words “remember when”.

There are some days where the equilibrium of my life is so far submerged in insanity and disordered mayhem that I feel almost overwhelmed by the obligations and uncertainties that shadow my life. Yet when I go for a run, the balance of life shifts. Those darkening shadows that once weighed so heavily upon my shoulders become no more than the somber outlines cast by an incandescent moon. Running gives us a space to breathe… free from restraints, liberated from confinement, released from imposition and given free reign to purge our thoughts of all heaviness and constraint.

A certain clarity of thought is gained from a changed perspective, when we step out our door and run beside a mirrored-still lake; beneath the deep shadows of twilight-spangled trees and the street-lit corridors of a sleepy neighborhood we see the world in a different light. The solidarity of night impregnates us with thought, confronts us with truth and commands of us that we release from our minds all doubt, negativity and fear and embrace a daring audacity of spirit that repels all obstacles. Somehow the mechanical churn of a treadmill fails to measure up to the clarity gained from a moonlit run beneath a night sky.

The solidarity of night provides one with a sense of great knowing. In the perpetual darkness that surrounds, one cannot help but feel a sense of absolute defenselessness and acute soul-embracing vulnerability. Pretenses are stripped away and the unrefined thoughts and imaginings of one’s inner self are laid bare beneath the commanding glory of the stars.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once penned these immortal words, ‘If a man would be alone, let him look at the stars. The rays that come from those heavenly worlds, will separate between him and what he touches. One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design, to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime. Seen in the streets of cities, how great they are! If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these envoys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.’

As I run beneath a southern sky, these shining emissaries of light cause my gaze to be lifted ever upward. In their immeasurable greatness they bestow an unarticulated clarity to life and impale any contemplation that does not have its grounding in truth, and in the vast limitless of their horizons they command my thoughts to ever rise above in searing splendor and challenge the ceilings of my self-perpetuated limitations.

It has been six weeks since I first expressed my indignation of being a ‘reluctantly caged captive’ and agonised over my debilitated state of being unable to run. Entrapment, I have come to realise, in both its physical and emotional elements, possesses the mystical power of stifling a spirit. We were never made to be captives, to have our free will, instincts and natural independence suppressed or taken from us. Lions, when forced into captivity often die in a short space of time, not from brutality of treatment or forced starvation but the resignation of their will to live in a captive environment. Their natural instincts which have ensured their survival for so many years are suddenly betrayed by an un-natural state. An innate freedom which has never been questioned is suddenly replaced by an imprisonment that can never be fully understood. Thus the animal, in confused despair loses its spirit and will to live and with no further medical explanation, breaths its last breath in tormented captivity.

Humans are not so different from animals. We are driven by natural instincts, by unquestioned prerogatives and modes of behaviour and it is not until our freedom is threatened that we truly understand and appreciate the state of being free. I never saw running as a freedom, I saw it as a given reality – a surety, a choice which would always be waiting for ready acceptance. Such an illusion, I soon found, was not sustainable and so for six weeks I have felt the deprivation of that very freedom. I have been confined against my will and controlled against my spirit of resistance, I have been tamed to idleness and restless agitation and harnessed from independence and deployment, I have indeed been a very reluctantly caged captive.

Hope is being redeemed however in the one-by-one removal of iron bars, the slow progression and redemption of freedom. I have been granted permission to return to a walking routine of 3 days per week. The length of my exercise is not to exceed 25 minutes and is to consist of 20 minutes walking | 5 minutes running. It is difficult to abide by such limitations when one knows they are capable of so much more, to run for 1 minute at a time when we have instinctively determined so many times before to push ourselves, to try harder, to keep going against all odds, to never give up. Yet counteracting this rebellious thought is the learned reality that should we ignore wisdom, we may forfeit all freedom completely.

Henry David Thoreau once wrote, ‘I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least – and it is commonly more than that – sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all worldly engagements.’ This very sentiment resonates with and gives definition to everything I feel at present. Due to physical ailments I have become somewhat disengaged from the silence of the world around me. Being bound indoors without so much as a ‘saunter’ by the river in the past few weeks I slowly feel myself becoming claustrophobic within the four walls in which I am constrained.

The light grows less faint however as my regular visits to the podiatrist and physiotherapist see promising results. I have been issued with orthodics to correct my running alignment and my high tension Achilles tendon exercises continue to be endured on a daily basis. Providing healing is as quickly as I am given reason to hope, I should be back to running in two weeks time.

My Achilles tendon continues to be an impediment to my running and so I am still begrudgingly bound to the confines of rest. The future is not however quite as dismal as could have been anticipated only a few weeks ago. Both my podiatrist and sports physiotherapist have confirmed that I should be back into running within 2 weeks. My foot and calf have been strapped up and I am doing two repetitions of 15 stretches daily to loosen up the highly tensioned muscles.

My running style and foot technique has been critically analyzed with video recordings and such footage has made it unmistakably evident that my lower leg is rolling substantially when I run. This rolling action is putting up to four times as much pressure on the Achilles tendon and lower calf muscles than that which would be normal for a runner, hence the recurring injuries.

There is such a freeing aspect in running that I have greatly missed in these past weeks of idle discontent. I feel that my life has somehow been confined and I find myself continually seeking something for which four walls and a window cannot provide. There are fleeting instances when a seizure of rebellion imposes itself upon me and I lunge into a defiant sprint down the hallway, but other than these rare moments, I have been commendably restrained.

The re-commencement of this goal will be reviewed next Tuesday when I have my next appointment with the podiatrist. Regardless of what the next step is to correct my misaligned running style, I am confident that my return to running regularly will be sanctioned without any serious concern.

Soren Kierkegaard once wrote “Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.” As Kierkegaard descripted, the solital state of walking evokes deep thought as our concentration is diverted from the menial obligations of life to the vast expanse of opportunity that lies latent within our souls.

My progress has again been stonewalled, though not from a lack of desire. I have in the past experienced recurring injury with my Achilles tendon and though I had hoped that I had strengthened my body beyond that weakness, I soon found on Friday afternoon that this was not the case. Mid step whilst running I felt a puncturing pain in my Achilles and, coming to a halt, found the tendon to be unmanipulatable. I rested the injury for several days before going to the Physiotherapist who immediately identified a problem with my gait. The Achilles was receiving abnormal pressure and strain because my foot was not correctly aligned. When I run my foot is forced to correct itself by rolling onto the horizontal plane – it is not naturally parallel.

After treatment, my physiotherapist instructed me to treat the calf muscles and Achilles with anti-inflammatories to reduce inflammation, to ice pack it at least twice a day, stretch out the muscle several times each day and that dreaded four letter word… rest. Every inclination within me dares me to defy her orders; however it takes only a few moments of reflection to recall other such past instances where my defiance has led to my destruction to make me inclined to follow her advice. So for the next few weeks I am housebound and though it has only been five days so far, I already feel as though my wings have been clipped and all freedoms have been bound into a small wire cage.

I am persuaded that the more determined we are in life to achieve and to revolt against a stagnated and idle life, the more guaranteed we are of encountering obstacles which seek to block our path. This goal has met some challenging impediments in the past few days but none which have successfully deterred me from forward progress.

I went running at 10:30 on Friday evening. A large luminous moon broke the shadows of the night and the world was distilled in silence and peaceful composure. As I had just reached the halfway point of my run, the quiet and serene state was interrupted by a winged insect rocketing like a missile into the cavity of my ear canal. The insect had propelled itself with such force into my ear that its attempts to maneuver out again appeared futile and it helplessly flapped its wings in vain distress. I meanwhile lost tolerance for the despairing creature as its small wings were creating irritating vibrations in my head and so, after enduring the return journey home with my ear pulsating, I put my head under the shower rose and drowned the anguished creature.

Whilst the grief of the insect came to an end, mine was to continue for several days including a visit to my local doctor, the emergency rooms at the Wesley Hospital and then finally to an ear, nose and throat specialist who, after several days managed to retrieve the unwelcome occupant. The saga continued with an inner ear infection, yet despite it all I resolved not to let it incapacitate me and continued life (and running) as normal. Disregarding the abnormality and happenstance of the situation, this series of events made me reflect on how many things in life can pervade as obstacles if we allow them. They test our strength, fortitude and steadfast resolve and confront our tenacity of commitment or lack thereof. I believe, if one is committed to something – such doggedness of determination cannot be undermined or overruled by impending circumstances that are anything less than death itself. The choice to stay in the game or watch from the sidelines is ultimately up to us.

There is a certain street light which, every night as I run towards its luminescent glow, turns off and leaves the world in total blackness. As that sole light diminishes itself, I am left bemused by the odd concurrence and yet at the same time, thankful for the darkness left behind which provides a strangely comforting assurance of peace.

I often travel the same route full circle and as I approach that same metal lamppost on my return journey, like a familiar friend – it greets my approaching by diffusing its light once again. Hidden amongst the deep shadows of trees, one can see flecks of light flicker for a moment before dissolving into its surrounding darkness. The stark distinction of darkness when there has been much light gives one the quiet impression of stillness and I find myself looking forward to that strange concurrence every night.

I love running; I love the feeling of coasting quietly down a solitary path, being attuned to the smells of the bush and engulfing my thoughts in the deep silence of the night. In our daily lives we always seem to be in transit – going somewhere, achieving something, striving for some accomplishment or destination… and in this transitional state we often overlook this simple truth: ‘life is made in the journey, not in the destination.’

When I run at night, even in darkness I see things that I have noticed before – things that are always there, but in the busyness of life, escape our observation. The luminosity of the stars and the weathered bark of trees, the slight wind that harmonizes every leaf, flower and blade of grass and the small lizards that run across the path before me. Life becomes simpler without noise, congestion and distraction – we are alone with our thoughts and in the depth of silence are attuned to the natural rhythm of nature.

With each day that passes, my strength and capacity is growing. I am walking or running every two or three days and the after-effects are not so sordid and repercussive as they were some months ago. The absence of it over the last three months has made me realise how much I have missed running, that short discharge from the mill-run of life where we push our physical and mental limitations and for one short hour escape into another world.