Sight Replaced by Vision

This morning, I was scheduled to run 7 miles. I did not finish. At about mile 2, my shin splints started bothering me, so I slowed down. I have had chronic shin splints for about 15 years, so I have learned to bear the pain or just block it out. The idea is to keep going. So, I did that. At about mile 4, I could feel the pain from my plantar fasciitis began to flare. I have had this heel injury for about two years, but it had recently gotten better. Hence, I felt prepared to train for this marathon. In the past and on several occasions, this injury caused me to fall to my knees upon taking my first steps in the morning. The pain was that bad. This morning, the thought of reliving those days caused me to negotiate with myself, and I decided to stop at 6 miles.

After the run, I did not feel bad about cutting corners. After all, I have stuck with my training plan extremely well.

Then, I went to breakfast, and ESPN was airing a story about a 12-year-old young man who battled cancer 9 times to save his sight. He won the first 8 bouts but lost the ninth. Don’t feel sorry for him though. Through losing his sight, he has gained vision – an attainment that has eluded many of us adults.

Tomorrow, I am scheduled to run 4 miles. I will do 5. Not because I will want to, but conversely, because I will NOT want to.

Do more and do better – my new mantra

If you want to see what it is to have sight replaced by vision, learn from this young man: http://espn.go.com/video/clip?id=4695418. (Please excuse the 15-second advertisement).

Process vs. Outcome

Many times, we focus too intently on the outcome, rather than process. We have our eyes so set on the destination that we can not see the sights along the road upon which we travel to get to our journey’s end. As children, we desperately want to be adults, not appreciating the advantageousness of our minimal responsibilities during youth. During courtship, we dream about the wedding, not fully appreciating or solidifying the foundation that we are building with our companion. As students, we long for graduation, discounting the education we receive, not only from the classroom but from our peers and personal perseverance.

We live in a world of instant gratification, so we seek that which is quickly obtainable and supposedly satisfying. However, if we look at the most endeared of our attainments, the story and the true reward tend to lie in the voyage, not in the destination. It’s not only that you got “it” (whatever “it” might be); it’s HOW you got it. For one woman, the destination is high school principle. The journey is overcoming dyslexia. For one man, the destination is fatherhood. The journey is growing up in foster care.

As I have trained for this marathon, I have begun to consider the process more so than the outcome which originally caught my eye: finishing a marathon. I could stagger across the finish line without having run another mile between now and February, and I would receive – in some peoples’ minds – the same outcome that I would receive if I finished the training and the marathon. However, I am not focused on the Mercedes medallion that participants receive for finishing the race (though I heard that the medallion is kinda tight). Rather than focus on the medal, I am centered on the mettle – the determination it will take to run 485 training miles through pain, dismal weather, sickness, and fatigue. I am determined to be an inspiration and optimistic that the reflections that I document herein will positively affect but one person.

I am going to enjoy crossing the finish line: the outcome. In the meantime, I am going to appreciate the journey: the process.

Intro

I began training for the Mercedes Marathon on September 29. Thus far, I have run 127 miles, each of them solo. Running alone has given me a great deal of time to reflect. I document some of these moments of reflection in this blog.