Running: Another Miracle!

By Jim PathFinder Ewing (Nvnehi Awatisgi)

With two 5K races under my belt, I guess I can now call myself a “runner.”

More precisely, though, I’m a run-jog-walk kind of guy.

Saturday, as with my first 5K on July 4, I came in near the end of the pack of runners, if not dead last. My official time was nothing to brag about. But, I was, and am, giddy with excitement about this feat.

In 1992, I shattered an ankle falling out of a tree. After surgery and rehab I was able to walk, but still had residual pain. This is what led me to reiki, which took care of the pain, so it was a blessing in disguise.  I still favor the ankle, and never thought I would be able to do anything like run a race.

You Need to Exercise!

Last January, during a routine physical exam, my healthcare provider (nurse practitioner Linda, who is also a Bear Dancer), observed that my blood pressure was too high. She suggested medication to keep it in check. I asked, “Isn’t there any way I can avoid drugs?”

Linda said I could try exercise and weekly BP monitoring.  She suggested 30 minutes moderate-pace walking three times a week, minimum.

Thus began my exercise regimen.

I started out rather timidly, walking to a woodland area about half a mile from our house and back. The first thing I noticed was how utterly out of shape I had allowed myself to become. I couldn’t run 50 yards without my legs giving out and gasping for breath. “This is pathetic!” I told myself. “How did I get so out of shape?”

The culprit was gradually settling in to a sedentary lifestyle. Lurking around in the back of my psyche, too, was the lingering Western idea that there is a disconnect between mind and body in the mind/body phenomenon.

I had plenty of time to think of this, as I did my daily walk to the woods (and sometimes through the woods) and back. And as time went on, I began lengthening the distance, and, also, on some days, would walk a little/jog a little. Pretty soon, I was walk/jogging 1.5 miles, then 2 miles each day, with a day off when it was raining, so that I was exercising 3-6 times a week.

Met Unofficial Goal, Signed Up

By the time Summer Solstice and our Bear Dance came around, I was actually jogging most of the way to and from the woods and had met a sort of unofficial goal for myself: to be able to jog/run all the way to a hill and back, a distance of 1.5 miles, without stopping or slowing down to walk. I did it! And was happy with my 2 miles per day.

Then, a few days before the Fourth of July, Annette noted that here in Lena, a 5K “fun run” was scheduled, and why didn’t we enter it together? (She walks daily, too, and has for years, and easily outdistances me.) I thought, “5K? How long is that?” I had to look it up: 3.1 miles. I told Annette, “I couldn’t possibly do this. The most I’m doing now is 2 miles; this is a mile longer.” But, as I thought about it, it seemed doable. It’s our hometown, so nobody would “make fun” of me if I was a slowpoke, I reasoned. And I could run a little/walk a little. If I “gave out,” I could still just walk to the finish. So, we both entered.

The Big Race

I had a rocky start.
Whereas I had thought that the race would be just local folks, it became increasingly obvious in the moments before the race that this surprisingly large crowd of people was composed of a lot of out-of-towners, some of whom were obviously big-time runners.

When they said “go,” I was left behind in a cloud of dust, bringing up the rear.
I didn’t know it would be so dramatic.
I trotted faster than my normal pace for the first .1 mile and knew I’d give out if I tried to keep it up; but there was a police car trailing right behind me, blocking the traffic on the road from the rear, and everyone else was pulling ahead swiftly.
I thought, “I’ve made a big mistake.” I felt embarrassed. “I’m not a runner,” I thought. “What am I doing here, humiliating myself in front of all these people. What was I thinking!”

I wanted to just stop running, go over to the side, give up and just walk back home.

I was feeling pretty low. I was just plodding along, looking at my feet, with the cop car behind me, the crowd of “real runners” pulling away ahead.
Then, I “felt” something. I looked up and there was a blue heron flying low, right in front of me. It came from nowhere, following a creek off to the right. It was crossing the road at eye level. I watched amazed as it flew not 15 feet in front me, gliding along with its ponderous wings, then turning upward, sailing away out of sight.
I was in utter awe. I held my hand out to the departing bird, in blessing, gratitude and sharing. “Thank you!” I said, “You are beautiful! Thank you!”

This incredible bird had given me its blessing, saying: “Hey, look at me! I’m ungainly in flight, just plodding along, but I, too, can soar!”
I felt invigorated: Inside, my inner voice said: “Just run your run. Don’t worry about anyone else. Enjoy.”
And I did.
As if on cue, the cop car passed me as I made the turn into the next leg of the run, and I was left with my own thoughts, running my own race.
By the time I made it half way (which was the road in front of our house), I was in stride, and enjoying the run, confident I could make it.
By the time I was trotting down the little country road I ran/walk/jogged every day, less than a mile to go, I was singing ancient Cherokee songs and thanking the ancestors!
I sang the whole final mile.

We Have a Winner!
When I crossed the finish line, dead last in the running division, I held my arms up like winning The Boston Marathon. There was a lady there with a camera taking pictures of the runners who looked at me like I was crazy. But I kept my arms up, and smiled the biggest smile I could muster.
As far as I'm concerned, I “won.”

As icing on the cake, wonder of wonders, I came in Third Place in my age division! They gave me a medal. Annette came in Second Place in her age/gender division, also dead last, as she kept a 'fully loaded' backpacker-in-training company during the race.

But the biggest “win” of all is that I finished. I couldn’t believe it. Nearly 20 years ago, I was told that I would never walk normally again. 

And here I am running a 5K race. And finishing.

It was a miracle.

More Research

Since then, I’ve done a lot more research into running. Annette has been an eager partner in this. She’s a miracle runner, too, having survived a car accident 35 years ago where they put steel rods in both of her legs.

We use a treadmill on stormy weather days, and also ride our bikes as a way of "cross training".  I’ve started a training regimen so I don’t injure myself; following a prescribed exercise routine for beginners like myself, running 1.5 miles some days, 3.6 miles others, mixing it up with flat terrain, hills, sprints, etc., with rest days between them.

A Cause for Peace

But the greatest benefit in all of this is that it has increased my spiritual practice. Now that I run/walk/jog routinely, without even having to think much about it, I look forward to the time with nature and Creator. From the start, in my walks, I would do what I called a “prayer walk,” where I would sing songs, or speak to the animals I saw (you would be surprised at the deer, eagles, foxes, and other animals that come out of the woods when there are no cars around, and you are focused on Spirit), or simply give prayers while swinging my arms and breathing. It gave me great cause for peace.

Inevitably, I would return eager to write down the insights given to me, or add them to my journal, or direct me to search out new topics or ideas.

Now, this daily ritual of exercise has become integral to – and integrated with – my spiritual practice. It is a tremendous force for gratitude and an inner compass for orienting myself to the outside world.

The Finish is Just the Beginning

So, today, as I write, my legs are sore from pushing myself  in yesterday’s race. That tells me that I have a ways to go in my training.

But that’s not the point, for me, anyway. By entering 5Ks, I give myself goals to work toward. Each race is not measured by the finish, but is the beginning of a new set of goals – measuring my level of fitness and where or how I need to improve. It keeps me moving forward.

I’m not competing against anyone; but I’m measuring myself for myself.

It is good.

Aho.

For more reading:

Here’s an interesting article from The New York Times, which presents the case for “slow” running:

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/03/health/03well.html

Photo: By April Simmons, Courtesy Mississippi Track Club