"What's on your list," I asked.
"I'd like to run a half marathon."
"I'll do it with you," I said, without thinking about how much this proposition would cost.
This weekend, I ran in the Music City Half Marathon, where thirty thousand slightly insane people donned shorts and ran (or attempted to run) either 13.1 or 26.2 miles. The reason why so many people had trouble running is because -- suddenly -- the weather turned hot hot hot. Whereas last year's marathon was cold and threatening to rain, this year's was 85 degrees, not a cloud in sight. After training during the cold winter months, dressed in fleece, yesterday was quite a shock to my system.
But what a spectacle! People running in costumes, people lined up all along the route to yell and encourage their friends, neighbors spraying a water hose so you could run through a mist and cool down. The signs were what got me. "Run Like You Stole It," and "Marathons: Not as Easy as Your Girlfriend."I kept looking forward to mile 11 and asked my "Bucket List friend Jana" not to tell me how far we'd gone until 11. After that, it seemed like 13 was no big deal. Mind you, I've never run 13 miles before in my life, but these are the things you think minute after minute in an effort to keep going.
Eleven.
Eleven.
All along the route, people rang cow bells (which you always need more of) and yelled out encouragements. "This is the hardest hill! You'll have a flat stretch after this!" or "Way to go! You've done 8 miles!"
Then, I heard it. "You've done eleven miles! Only a little bit more!"
I was thrilled. I started running with a spring in my step and with more clarity. Then, I was looking forward to seeing the next glorious marker, 12, followed by 13, then followed by the nearest patch of grass in the shade I could find. But when it came up?
"11.0"
It totally deflated my bubble. It may not sound like a big deal, but I'd run a mile thinking I was almost finished, and it completely leveled me to realize I had to "re-run" that eleventh mile.
It got me thinking about the damaging effects of false hope. Last night, I was watching Molly, an American Girl movie about WW2 in which the main character's dad goes to war.
"Do you promise you'll be safe?"
"I promise," the dad reassures his daughter, a bold declaration especially considering the mortality rate of soldiers in that awful war.
Hope -- the endlessly bandied around word, especially in this political cycle -- has to be based on truth or it's not hope at all. It's merely "wishful thinking," which is quite different than the life-giving joy of true hope.
This is what I thought about as I ran my eleventh mile... again.
1 comments:
I've heard two schools of thought about hope.
#1: "Hope is the first step on the road to disappointment."
Pretty bleak. Right up there with such glorious axioms as "A small mind is a tidy mind", and "A broad mind lacks focus; a narrow mind sees better".
#2: in number two, hope ties in to faith...which ties in to hope...which ties in to...
Okay, so it's circular. But it works. And it doesn't have to be religious faith- it can be faith in yourself, in someone else, in a thing- whatever works. As long as it works.
And it will only work so long as we choose its working. Courage, I was told (or I read, rather, in "Serve to Lead", an anthology from the Royal Military Academy/Sandhurst)- courage, I was told, is a cold choice, made with a fixed resolve not to quit, and a choice made not once in a lifetime but many times, every time by the power of one's will.
And then, of course, there's your point there's your point that faith and hope are all perfectly well so long as their basis is in knowledge, fact, truth - that's as may be, but for those times when we can't know for sure, well, that's where all we can do is hope. And grit our teeth. And have pulled the grenade's pin for if the bastards finally break down the door.
As long as it keeps our heads above water.
"When there is nothing but darkness and all strength seems lost, still
a glimmer can illuminate the night.
This glimmer began when good people began and will last as long as
good people last. It will never falter as long as they never falter.
And it is something they alone wield.
It is greater than any armour, shield, or sword. It is greater than
any contempt, disgust, or hatred. To it all enemies shall fall.
It is faith. Faith that unites us, that illuminates the darkest
places- when all is lost, be faithful, for faith is our most powerful
tool."
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