10 June 2010

Running Down Memory Lane

"I can't do it, its not me," was the old childhood voice inside my head.  Lo all those years ago no one ever told me that I couldn't do it, do what?  Be athletic!  Sure, I tried baseball, soccer, and even once had a bad run in on the football field in middle school, but I was my own worst enemy.  I lacked the fortitude for practice and perseverance when it came to being physically active.  I never saw it in me and never gave myself a running chance--perhaps it was a sign of my immaturity.    My parents would always encourage me in whatever I got involved with, but anything remotely athletic seemed never in the cards for me.

Fast forward a few years.  One of the many things that I enjoy about running is visiting old places in my life that represent various pieces of my story and running there. Doing something new now that seemed so impossible and impracticable then is rather gratifying.  Returning home after seminary has afforded me some time to recollect and ruminate about my childhood. Today I decided to take a 5-mile run at Ritter Park, the scene of so many forced runs during high school phys-ed class.  It was daring me to come back and try it again.  So I did.

A few minutes into my run, the smells hit me hard.  Nothing offensive registered but the mere pungency of childhood memories seeping into my consciousness.  I used to play a lot at this park as a kid, aside from those dull gym class runs.  So many summers spent in the creeks, on the playground, and riding bikes.  It was the cool hang-out spot and now the smells were all too familiar, it was like going back in time in running gear.  When it hit, it hit me hard.  Somehow and in some strange way, running was healing my past.  I was coming full circle and this time there was no "you can't do it" voice.

In T.S. Eliot's poem, "Little Gidding," the last of his famous Four Quartets, he wrote something about this exploration:
We shall not cease from exploration 
And the end of our all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.  
The last line, "and know the place for the first time," has stuck with me since I first encountered it in high school English class.  I was knowing this place, this childhood memory, for the first time.  It was powerful.  It was healing.  Who knew that running in this old place would unlock the flood gates of memory lane?  But rather than drowning in self-pity, I was wading through the waters with a strength that I have come to hone and burnish in my age--the strength of living life to Christ.

When I finished my run and returned to the car, I couldn't help but remember how once upon a time I could not even run once around the park.  Now I did 5-miles!  That voice from childhood is long gone; I don't tell myself those things anymore.  My own experience teaches me to believe that the impossible is not only possible but is doable.  Running through memory lane today was good.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

"Run Forest, run"!!!!

Dr. Chad M. Krouse said...

thanks!

Heather Tyner said...

A wonderful post Chad ~ thanks for introducing me to that poem, it is beautiful.

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