Running with King David

Today, Runners' World popped up with "MORNING READ: "How I learned to love running without an iPod".

In the running universe, there are as many camps as there are in politics: headphones v. no headphone, barefoot v. shoes, trail v. pavement, shorts v. running skirts…

Most of us who own a pair of trainers just want to run.

As kids, we ran without heart rate monitors, specialized clothing, expensive coaches, and the flotsam and jetsam that attaches itself to any human endeavor.

We just ran.

And giggled.

And got clotheslined by the occasional monkey bars or low-hanging branch.

Then we got back up again and ran in circles, around the playground, behind the house, through the orchard, down the hill, to meet the bus, and because we actively loved the universal variety of catch-me-if-you-can hide-and-seek games.

It was fun. And we weren't crazy.

To be fair, sometimes we ran because somebody was chasing us.

Most often, we ran because we could and there was joy in it like riding a bike and letting the wind whip up your pigtails or spinning on your big wheels until you were woozy or digging in mud and soon resembling Pigpen of "Snoopy" comics.

Why do we abandon that joy?

It's exhausting to live with so many agendas and expectations.

Getting my life wrecked was the best thing to help jerk me from a self-focused "competition" to getting real about loving folks and a God I cannot see. I didn't even realize that all this striving was sucking the life out of precious friendships, family, joy, work, and loving God. 

So why "Running with King David"?

After moving from Kansas, I missed my best and most awesome running buddy, Katie. She wasn't around to pry me out of bed at some godawful hour to tackle the long in-town Zombie Run or to meet her for a snowy run in the Flint Hills. I realized that running had become fun again because it was more time to invest with her (and with Rockin' Rhonda when we both lived in Manhattan.)

Running solo was no fun. Boring. Unsustainable.
Ugh.

I tried listening to music to make it more fun, but I run like such a calomping donkey, that my music kept cutting off, headphones flew, and it was so frustrating. 

Fortunately, my music gadget was not charged one day when I just HAD TO RUN. 

And you know what? It didn't suck.

I remembered why I'd never run with music before (except on the treadmill).

I could hear birds, people, and the rhythm of my klomp-klomping feet and the wheezing of my breath. 

It was peaceful (minus the wheezing).

Meditative.

Not in the ommmmm sense of the word, but in the, "Hey, I'm hanging out with the only running buddy available- Jesus…which is great because I feel like I'm going to die!"

But something was still missing and while reading the article this morning, I remembered it.

Running is not for a race, it is for joy. 

Or: the things we do in our lives ultimately add up to a life well spent or one that spent us. 

And then, an hour later in my quiet time, I tripped over one of my favorite Psalms – songs – because it is so foreign to me and so delicious, Psalm 131.

I offer it to you in both the Message and the New Living translations.*  
Wheeze on, my friends.

A Pilgrim Song (the Message)

A song for pilgrims ascending to Jerusalem. A psalm of David. (New Living)

*both translations thanks to the good folks who keep http://www.biblegateway.com/ up and running.