Heroes Where You Least Expect Them

This morning I met Coach at the track in a local park for our training session. The workout would be light since we are running in a 10K race (6.2 miles) on Sunday. Our drill was to run barefoot in order to become familiar with where our natural foot-strike occurs. I was apprehensive about running on the textured track surface, but I figured it would be like a giant pumice stone and other people pay a fortune for pedicures. So, off with the shoes and socks, and onto the track I went.

Soon it felt natural, and I was able to sprint, jog, run and walk as instructed. I began doing some speed drills, running 50 or 100 yards to catch up with people walking the track, then recovering at an easy pace.

There was a woman running on the track who I will call Ann (not her real name). As I passed her during one of my last speed drills, I was breathing as deeply as possible. "Breathe! Breathe!" she said as I passed, although a slight speech impediment made it sound like she said, "Bree! Bree!"

I knew what she meant, so I slowed down and said to her with a laugh, "Breathing is good!" She smiled and said, "I love to run." The slight catch in her speech was still there. At first, I thought she might be deaf, speaking with the open-throated tone that some deaf people have.

I said and signed to her, "I'll go with you," and we began to run again. Her pace was moderate but enthusiastic, clearly showing the joy she felt about running. I jogged barefoot beside her, no longer thinking of my feet.

We ran a few laps together, running until we caught up with three friends of hers who were walking the track. One friend said this would be the last lap. Ann and I paused while I introduced myself to her friends, and they began to finish the lap.

"I had an accident," she said, voluntarily filling in the gaps. "I was 16. I was in a coma for a long time. They said I would never breathe on my own or talk or walk. Now I'm 36 and I love to run."

"You are my hero," I said. Her eyes were shining when she said to me, "And you are my hero."

"Well," I said, "I do have this big scar across my left side where they took my kidney out when I was a kid. I could never play sports. Now I'm 56 and I'm training to run a marathon."

"See?" she said, "you are a hero. We're both heroes." Her smile beamed.

"The first time I spoke after my accident, I was my hero," she said. "Then I couldn't walk and speak at the same time. Now I can run and speak. We are all heroes."

We ran to the track's gate, where she caught up with her friends. I told her I am usually here at the track this time of day Mondays through Thursdays, and I hoped we could be running partners again.

Who would want to miss the opportunity to run with a real hero? Not me, that's for certain.

Old Words, New Meanings

This past week our marathon team met for the Saturday long run training. We went seven miles. I admit this may have influenced the following anecdote.

Last night, I dreamed the Lord's Prayer was worded, "Lead us not into temptation, but help us make it over the next hill."

When I ran a 10k for the first time, last week, I was running on my own. I wanted to take a break and walk part of it. The temptation was strong! But I wanted to stay in integrity. On the other hand, there was a slight hill coming up that felt like a mountain!

I kept running, remembering the name of Dick Gregory's book, "Are You Running With Me, Jesus?" and I finished the 10k.

Just get me over the next hill, Lord, whatever it might be. Amen.