The Drag The Rush The Road The Closet The Chapel My Sneakers

The past month or so running has been treated with a basic neglect. I have not accepted any genuine responsibility for engaging in the playful challenges that running has faithfully provided. I only find myself running to church (both literally and figuratively). The fourteen+ mile trek becomes the battleground for what consumes or errodes my peace, patience and consolation. It becomes a battle of will and a beating of my body into submission and then using it to work out  my salvation, figuring our how to be loving and kind.  Sin doesn't get thrown into some abyss lost to God, but rather I do think it gets washed over. Sin has a very long shelf life as it were and the misgivings of childhood and young adulthood remain steadfast reminders of how the old is always waiting on the new to give way. I will begin to commit to running again to decide that it is important for many reasons and that I am not healthier for my sporadic haphazord approach. I have not even freed my schedule  (insert laugh) I just replaced running time with more down time, loitering about the house or taxing the kids to and fro. There has been growth in the churching of me which is odd because I have been actively churched for years now. My home chapel is firmly established and I enjoy and look forward to my prayer time, as I do my running and more so. In my recent history, running was the temple for my prayer now I have a temple and chapel to prayer privately and more openly with my children. The prayer of Saint Ephraim has been weighing on my mind and I have been praying it daily. I hope this Lent I learn true patience and love.