The battle to experience beauty in pain.

Giz and I get to our start line, I unclip his lead and he prances around excitedly at the prospect of running up the beach, no doubt relishing the freedom of the wide open space and the many distractions that entice him on this, our regular journey of love and discipline. I press the virtual start button on the screen of my phone that activating application that keeps record of our activity. From the very first pace, the familiar pain from middle-aged joints and muscles asserts its presence in my body. I recall a conversation I had with another new acquaintance from a dating site last night about exercise and ageing. Why do we do this to ourselves? We both have to accept real limitations on what our bodies are even capable of anymore. It is high tide, the sand is soft, there is a strong westerly head wind, and the swell is large enough for a decent surf session there, or possibly even at the local point breaks which is a very rare occurrence. Everything is saying "arghhhh fuck it, it is too hard and I am missing out on doing some fun things by doing this, give up, why push yourself?" and yet deep down I know, this is important. This gives you strength, purpose and direction. So on we go. I concentrate on technique, breathing, pacing myself. I know from experience what an achievable goal is so I aim for that goal. My phone audibly updates in 5 minute intervals, and the first update tells me I am under pace to achieve my goal. It is such hard work. Giz is bounding around like it is nothing, taunting me, like he is a child saying "come on dad, why are you so slow?" I try running closer to the water where the sand is a bit harder to improve my pace, but there are channels carved in the still soft sand by the retreat of the waves, requiring effort and concentration to avoid, I move back up to the softer, flatter sand away from the water and keep plugging away. Giz runs under my feet and I stumble but keep going. I see a pretty girl in the distance, she gives me a smile, I am single and often feel lonely, the temptation to stop and engage her in conversation is intense but onwards I push. I turn for the final leg home, I am just on the required pace to achieve my goal but I have reached the limit of my strength and will power, in my mind I utter "God give me strength", I close my eyes and reach inside for something to get me to the finish. All of a sudden I feel a surge of love, energy, instantly all the pain, struggle and doubt fades in insignificance. For a few brief seconds the Spirit courses through my body like a wave, cleansing and renewing body, mind and soul, I feel completely alive, then my weak left ankle lands awkwardly and pain shoots through the joint, a big wave crashes forcing me to side step onto the softest sand, and I pass that pretty girl , too exhausted yet focussed to even say "hello", but seconds later I have made it. The finish. I achieved my goal. A sense of deep satisfaction fills me. I did it, again. My middle-aged body carried me through one more battle. I am truly alive, and life; is beautiful.

Bookmarks

People are like books, some are open, some are closed, some seem easy to read, some seem harder. Before you judge someone ask yourself: "Did I take time to read this book properly, or did I just skim through and skip a few pages here and there?"

A lesson from my training buddy

I love having a dog. "Giz" is a great mate, loyal companion and teacher of valuable lessons. I got him while I was in a relationship and I think me getting him was an act of Love to me from God and from an ex (as we split up a short time later). Having Giz motivated me to start walking, and now running. Running has been life-changing for me, and Giz is nearly always there, at my feet as I push myself to be true to me and give him the exercise he needs to stay healthy in every sense. I said "nearly always" because he sometimes lags a bit and I have to call him to get him to stay with me as we run along the beach together. He is usually well capable of keeping up our regular activity (5.4km flat sand run) and managed to stay with me for pretty much a full 10km last week; but not this morning. I don't know why but this morning he just would not stay with me. I let him off the lead as per usual and pretty much as soon as I started running he started lagging much more than usual. I tried using different tones of voice to call him with no success. For whatever reason he just would not respond. I got angry and frustrated, usually I would supress that but today I chose to allow myself to release that anger, "if you don't/can't/won't run with me well fuck you then" was my unspoken mentality. So I ran on leaving him behind. On the final leg back to the end he had started following a lady walking along the beach towards me. As much as I was driven to finish the run, I stopped, put him on the lead and ran on. An amazing thing happened, he ran whole-heartedly with me on the lead as I more gently encouraged him, normally he just drags ridiculously when you put the lead on. I let him off after about 10 seconds and he absolutely frolicked at my feet for the rest of the run! It is amazing the transformation that can occur in any relationship if you are willing to show a little loving discipline. Thanks Giz.

Feathers

I was walking along the beach today with a gusty breeze at my back. I glanced a beautiful, long, thin, brown feather as the wind blew it past me. For a second I was tempted to chase it but thought; "No, if you are meant to have that feather, it will stop and you can pick it up..." so I watched it be carried by the wind. Sometimes it stopped, I got closer to the feather and thought it was going to be mine, but then a gust blew it farther away. I watched that feather get blown farther and further away, not wanting to let go of the hope that it would stop and I would have it after all. Then I sneezed, lost sight of the feather and knew I would never hold that feather in my hand and appreciate its beauty up close. With a little sadness and disappointment I walked to the place where I meditate often on the beach, and at the seat where I sit, there seemed to be more feathers in that one little area than I had ever noticed on the beach before. I didn't notice if they were beautiful because I was still thinking about the feather that I lost. I couldn't face sitting there with all those feathers so I turned around and walked into the stiff breeze back along the beach towards home. I saw so many feathers on the way home, different colours, some big, some small, some beautiful and not a single one travelling with the wind. Then I saw one beautiful, long, thin, brown feather stuck in the sand. I cried, partially because it reminded me of the feather that I had lost, but mainly because I knew deep down in my heart, now is not the time for me to be picking up feathers.