Marathon Redux

Along about mile 19 or 20 of my first and only marathon, the gift of the challenge appeared.  A true gift is something that is lasting, substantial, and generous, a manifestation that reaches to the core of the spirit.  Running through the streets of London on that beautiful April day in 1997, the first 7 miles went by quickly, as the sights and sounds of the experience provided the celebratory context of joy and excitement. 

The next 7 miles were not all that difficult either, although by about 15, the blisters on my feet were demanding more Advil than was probably wise to be taking.   By mile 16 or 17, I'd blown through several second winds.  My body was aching.  I was starting to feel weak.  Fear that I might not make it had to be pushed back.  For that, the people cheering on the sidelines was enough.  Running along with my friend, Gustanna, we smiled to hear "Good show, girls.  Carry on. You can do it."  Under duress, those optimistic cheers were potent medicine.     But at around 6 miles to go, I'd spent everything I had.  I stopped for a bathroom break, and told Gustanna to go on ahead without me, that I would catch up if I could.  

Back out on the course, at a slow easy pace, I soon realized I wanted to find out what kind of reserves I still had, and picked up my rhythm.  No sooner had I made that decision than I found myself flying through the streets, and it wasn't all that long at all before I thought I glimpsed the back of her head in a pack of runners a long, long way in front of me.   By mile 23, I was back with her, and we finished together.  Exhilerating.  26.2 miles through the streets of London.  Amazing.  When we finished, some part of me, my spirit, wanted to keep going.    My body begged me not to listen.

The gift was to discover that empty is an illusion;  only when you think you are toast, do you get to learn you are not.  This comes as visceral knowing, not a cliche or platitude.  It is hard earned, and gloriously real.

For some people, a life threatening diagnosis is a health crisis to be dealt with mostly on the physical level.... doctors, meds, time, patience.    For others, the healing marathon is spiritual, a very real dark night of the soul.    This is a phrase that is not well understood, and used too lightly.  The dark night is multi-faceted, cold, dark emptiness  Its purpose is transformation and release into a higher order of being.  By the time you are in the thick of the dark night, you've already tried most of what other people, from the sidelines, might think to offer as support or advice.  You are too tired to say so.  You are deep in the crysalis of the experience, trying to hold on until your imaginary wings poke through as real.

If anyone I know and loved had witnessed me in London, they might have seen me weak, pale, and afraid at the lowest point, and they might have wanted to give advice.  "Drink more water.  Walk for a while.  You can stop any time you want to, you've already won the challenge by your presence and willingness to try."  Any number of things, spoken well intentioned, lovingly offered, can not touch the dynamics of the internal event.  The point is a higher order, discovered by testing and faith, pushing toward a victory innocently, enthusiastically imagined months earlier at the outset of training..... warrior training....delicious testing to become more intimate with the Universe.

In my current marathon, I'm at about mile 17 at the moment.  I know what will happen.  I gave myself that gift some years back on the jog /bike trail in Mill Valley, and on the streets of London.  Still, dark is dark, until it isn't any more.  If you see me right now, you will know I am low.  But don't be confused by that.  Inside, the furnace is kicking in, kicking up, starting to blaze.  A higher order is beginning to manifest, but is as yet, invisible. 

Whenever we transcend our previously experienced limits, we are encountering the Universe with utter intimacy.... one on one time with the forces of creation and deep, firey love.  It isn't any place that can be shared while it is going on.   Reaching out to plug into the Universal field is a one-on-one event, daring, stepping with the faith of a child and the resolve of a warrior.  

There's a reason they call it a test.

Passing with colors flying, is all I've ever known.

Keep holding the faith.  When its all over, I will share the gifts of this experience, and I do look forward to that.

Loving darkness does not mean loving anything about the circumstance or the experience.  It means trusting the purposefulness in landing in it.... loving the Universe that much.