Ordered Chaos

I’m trying to keep up with posting at least once a week, but it’s sure hard to find the time! Next week is the last of 2 out of 4 summer classes, and I’ve definitely got my nose to the grindstone. And it seems that the busier I get, the more dependent I become on running.

Today at 6:30am I grabbed my iPod as I headed out the door for a long run, and just before I got to the door I activated my musical companion. Then disaster struck – my battery was in the low red zone and definitely would not make it over an hour. This isn’t the first time it’s happened (and it won’t be the last), so I reluctantly placed it back on the coffee table, and walked out the door with some mild mental turmoil. I felt like I had just left my dog with his leash on at home after promising him a walk. So what, maybe I even thought about giving it a kiss goodbye. In the meantime, I’m thinking to myself, what am I going to do? I’ve got all this time to run, and now I’m left exclusively to my own thoughts. I’d compare it to a child being left at home with a babysitter that has a “unique”, shall we say, personality.

Okay, so all’s well that ends well. And well, I’m well! It turned out to be just what I needed – a temporary and solo escape from my educational and career aspirations. In a way, this escape was a return to myself that became a self-proclaimed honeymoon of the mind and body. I feel a renewed sense of relaxation and perspective, and hopefully with the assistance of future running excursions, I can evenly stretch this feeling over the next year and beyond.

Consider this an official welcome to my running life. Sure, I told you about the Boston Marathon, but that was more about the racing experience than my everyday running, which is a significant part of my life. I’ve been running for about 12 years, and I plan to keep doing so as long as I’m capable. I was an active child, involved in various sports – mostly soccer – and for some reason, during the summer after 8th grade I just started running. I’m not sure what prompted me to hit the road with no destination in mind, but I’ve stuck to it ever since.

Running is my psychological rock. I know that no matter what my state of mind, running will propel me in the right direction, whether I’m stressed and need a boost or I’m elated and need it to last. However, in some ways I feel like I was simply born to run. Some say that we human beings, as a species, are anatomically built to run. Our strong stature and bipedal, upright walking capabilities give us the predisposed ability, and natural tendency, to run. There is something primitively inspiring about propelling oneself. Moving our bodies with our own strength and endurance is fulfilling at the most instinctual level. On a deeper level, running gives me the sensation that I’m keeping up with the ever-changing world. This life by nature is impermanent, and with all things in constant motion, running tunes me to the pace of my own life.

Of course, not every run finds its way to the philosophical region of my mind. Yesterday, for example, was nothing more than a reminder of why I’m a morning runner, especially in the summer. It was a sauna out there! It was an out & back run and the way back was unforgiving! If I wanted a breeze I’d have to fan myself or waste my precious breath blowing air on my sweat-soaked body. Oh well, I need that once in awhile.

Another realization I’ve had on my summer runs is that I love winters! Growing up in Nebraska, I developed a hatred for abrupt seasonal changes and an almost exploding desire to leave the state. As I’ve simmered down and truly absorbed my surroundings, I’ve grown quite attached to this beautiful place, and also to the seasons. Without extreme winters and summers, we’d have much less appreciation for seasonal changes. Or just change in general. After all, this world is ever-changing, and it doesn’t hurt to have mother nature’s help in learning how to adapt to change. A sure-fire way to spot people who are resistant to change is to listen to them talk about the weather. Constant complaining says it all!

And all this from running!?! Why not? If what we’re doing with our short-lived time on this earth doesn’t mean something, why do it at all?

A beautiful occurrence has taken place! Yesterday I was welcomed back into the academic world with (hopefully) open arms. I feel like the prodigal son of…well, of I don’t know whom, I guess the state of Nebraska. I have started a year-long program to get my teaching certificate to teach high school math. I’m pretty sure what’s his face didn’t give his prodigal son homework on the first day, but there are no free lunches in the rush of summer school! That’s okay though, because I’m destined to be a life-long student.

For about two and a half years I’ve been corporate bound, more accurately described as a cube sloth. Before that I had a stint of graduate work at the medical center, but found research to be a lonely and unsatisfying life, especially since my true passion was in teaching. My craving for a “people” job turned into working for a small office of around 25 employees. They’re wonderful people, but it hasn’t filled my craving to work with people, not just among people. So, my wife Allison & I decided we’d grin & bear a year of the double-student household! I’m two days into it and still grinning, so I guess that’s a good sign. My wife isn’t grinning, but she’s 3 years deep in med school, so who can blame her?!?

Anyway, I’m excited to embark on this yearlong journey toward a profession that I wholeheartedly adore. I know teaching will present many challenges, and my goal this year, and each year I teach thereafter, is to remain focused on my idealistic “pretty picture” I’ve painted in my head of why I want to teach. If I can aim my efforts towards a more educated population, universal tolerance, and unconditional compassion, then I’ve done my job. Sure, there will be paperwork, angry parents, cliquey kids & annoying cell phones in class. But if idealism has such a weak foundation that it topples under these petty weights, then humanity has reached a sad milestone. Nevertheless, I believe in the potential of every child to learn and to progress intellectually, socially, and physically.

So I’ll be a mere math teacher, so what? We all know it’s not just about math. It’s about numbers. It’s about logic. It’s about critical thinking, cause and effect, decisions and consequences. It’s about looking at a situation and being able to assess its nature, current state, and inevitable outcome. It’s really just about life, and that is what I hope to teach.

I’m going to close this with a toast to my future students: May you be forever empowered to achieve far greater goals than I, and may those outcomes fill your hearts with humble optimism for future generations.

Cheers.

As some of you may know, I ran the Boston Marathon in mid-April, so I thought I’d share some of that with you all. In a nutshell, it was an incredible experience!! I could tell you about the unattainable mental detachment of traversing a city with 20-some thousand people or the crazy nor’easter storm with sheets of skin-piercing rain blowing in sustained winds of 30mph, and gusting at 50mph. Or I could tell you about the infamous hills starting around mile 16 and culminating at mile 20-21 with Heartbreak Hill. But I won’t.

What I would like to tell you about is well-grounded honesty in numbers. I think it’s widely known that avid runners eat and drink much more than the average person. In fact, some may even run just so that they can eat and drink more. The fact is, what goes down must come out. And this very truth probably causes race directors more headaches than traffic control.

Seeing Boston Marathoners on race day brought back the timeless grandfather’s tale of “walking to school through 3 feet of snow every day, up hill both ways!” Although school’s out on race day, you could almost smell determination in the air. Competitive hopefuls stripping their pride (and pants) to relieve themselves among nearby trees, only to be called out by the 4-wheeler cop and his makeshift siren. The cop may as well have been a clown on a unicycle squeezing his hee-haw horn. But these runners were right on target with their hope of being on the news.

Other runners stood in 2 inches of muddy water for up to 45 minutes, waiting for the next port-o-john to open its heavenly doors, to welcome them into a momentary escape of a toilet-paperless niche. But in the absence of paper, we give thanks to the Saturn volunteers handing out sweat towels on our way up to another set of un-stocked row-houses.

And all of this before the race ever got started! What happens when the race starts? Apparently the urge to go fosters a hallucination that the street curb serves as a cloak of invisibility. Personally I think these people read too much Harry Potter, because I counted countless runners (if that makes any sense), men and women alike, doing their duty.

It’s okay, though, because there’s honesty in numbers. People are well-grounded and practical in the company of thousands. They’re human. The number of gadgets and amenities we require on a daily basis is quite ridiculous, and I’m not exempt from this. But racing is different. Maybe it’s the participation in something so fundamentally physical that strips us of our snooty pride. Maybe it’s the anonymity of being only one among a flooded city of strangers. Or maybe it doesn’t even matter what it is. Because when push comes to shove and bloat comes to blow, only one of is going home with clean shorts. And I’m proud to say that my Boston Marathon finish would have put a smile on potty-trainers all around the world.

Cheers to running. And running water.