July 23, 2013 § 7 Comments
When I was young, I wasn’t a great athlete but one thing I could do- I could run. Fast.
As a young boy, I remember summer nights dashing across the lawns of our neighborhood, the darkness accentuating my super-human speed. Later, I remember running the curve on the cinder track, leaning into the turn, feeling as though the air was holding me up. And then long runs through the hills of Vermont, feeling stronger as the miles unspooled.
Running has always felt natural to me.
I haven’t had that feeling since an injury eight months ago put running out of my life. It’s not clear that it will ever be resolved in a way that will bring me back.
I tell myself, and those around me- no worries. I can always bike and swim and so on. But somehow those consolations wear out and the sense of loss returns.
So last evening I went to the ocean and felt the cool and foamy surf surge over and around my damaged ankle. I watched the neighbor boys body surf with a naturalness and abandon familiar to me. Then Sammie, our dog, joined in- bounding along and through the waves. I looked to the horizon, felt the offshore breeze that was standing the waves up, smelled the salty air, and heard the roaring surf as it pounded to shore.
And standing there, I understood.
When I try to think my way to some form of calculated consolation for loss, I will always come up short. But when I am just in my moment, as I was last evening, there is no need for consolation, no sense of loss, no worry about what’s to come. I’m just there.
Although looking back, and for just the slightest moment, I was somewhere else- a boy flying across the yard on a dark summer night.
I’m so glad to be here, catching up on your blog. Every time I do, I am reminded of why I love your blog so much: Your writing is beautiful, of course, but it’s the honesty and clarity with which you tell your beautiful stories that makes your blog so totally enrapturing. You inspire me to live in the moment. Thank you. 🙂
Fabulous observations. I remember running in the same way – what you describe as the air holding you up – off and on for years. I can’t do it anymore, but I love ocean swimming; love my bike; love hiking the valleys near our home. Being in the moment is the only way to live because it’s all we’ve truly got! Aloha, Tom, and blessings.
I like that-living in the moment-sometimes a larger view is just too painful. beebeesworld
Lucky you indeed to have learned to be in the moment, not stuck in the past or building anxiety over the future. Thanks. 🙂
I have felt this feeling and come to the same place. That pure moment has a way of giving us clarity doesn’t it?
Lucky you, indeed.