The Mile

Over the past two years, I feel like I've slowed to a crawl.  So this morning, I jogged over to the high school where I could time myself running on the quarter-mile track.  After a 9:09.08 with negative splits, I was pleased to feel like maybe I haven't slowed as much as I thought.

But it still seems harder than ever to run . . . and to keep running.  After this morning's mile, I began to contemplate whether my body is less able or my mind is less disciplined.  It might well be the latter.

We were driving home from the Nats v. Braves game last night, and we drove on part of the route I ran for the marathon in 2003.  I could remember that route so very well.  This is where I started hurting; this is where the race day fan was handing out Clif bars (that Clif bar brownie at the 18-mile mark was the best brownie I've eaten . . . EVER); and the list of good memories (though painful during that race) went on and on in my mind.  I don't think I want to try a marathon again; but I would like to do another 10k sometime.  I need more mental discipline.

The lack of mental discipline shows up in my golf game, too.  I can play 3 great holes, followed by 4 poor holes, simply because I lose focus.  

I wonder -- is Federer's year this year a step slower because his body's aging or his mind is losing just a bit of his former focus.  I think he'll be back . . . but I think he's right to try it a new way.

Anyway, back to running -- when I finished my run today, Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, Op. 11, began playing on Kib's old iPod.  That instrumental piece seems to affect me whenever I listen to it -- beautiful piece.  For some reason, I thought about what I'd like to have read at my funeral (okay, I'm putting it here for the same reason you take an umbrella to a picnic -- so it won't rain!).  The choice was an easy one.  I'd like for someone to read this:

"Sometimes I think of Abraham,

How one star he saw had been lit for me.

He was a stranger in this land,

and I am that no less than he.

And on this road to righteousness,

Sometimes the climb can be so steep.

I may falter in my steps,

But never beyond your reach."

[silence]

O God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you.

I will seek you in the morning, and I will learn to walk in your ways.

And step by step you'll lead me, and I will follow you all of my days."

Anybody who knows me knows the source of those lyrics.  Sing 'em when I finish the marathon they call life.