The Greatest Adventures

I almost always have at least two
books going at the same time. One typically stays on my nightstand or in my big
brown chair at home. The other lives in my backpack (my town backpack, or book
bag, that is) which sits in the front floorboard of my pickup when I’m not hauling
it around. I started keeping a second book in my pick-up a long time ago, when
my kids were young and I would sit reading, waiting for the end of soccer
practice or dance class.

I do try to mix up my reading so I
won’t get the two books confused, and also so I won’t get stuck in a rut. I
won’t read too many hard books in a row, or too many spiritual books, or
science books, or humor books. If I read the same category back to back to back
I end up skimming more than reading. I want to give each book a fair reading.

But the strangest thing happened
recently. My system got messed up. Both of my books were about distance and
endurance. My home book was a memoir by Marshall Ulrich titled, “Running on
Empty: An Ultramarathoner’s Story of Love, Loss, and a Record-Setting Run
Across America.” Not only is Ulrich one of the world’s toughest endurance
athletes, he might be near the top of lengthy book title writers.

My backpack book was another memoir,
this one by Paul Stutzman, titled, “Hiking Through: One Man’s Journey to Peace
and Freedom on the Appalachian Trail.” Another long title.

For as long as I remember, I have
enjoyed reading about epic life-changing journeys. I read enough of them that I
feel obligated to tell Cyndi, “Don’t worry; I’m not going to try this myself.”

Not that the idea of running
coast-to-coast or through-hiking the Appalachian Trail doesn’t sound appealing
to me. They both do.

So where does this come from, I
wonder? Why do I like adventure stories? Especially man-against-nature or man-against-distance
stories? Why does the thought of epic journey sound so attractive?

I think it has something to do with
the pursuit of vulnerability.

After all, we can’t test our own
limits without putting ourselves in vulnerable, risky situations. We can’t know
what we’re made of unless we have something to lose.

Maybe we don’t want to know what
we’re made of, afraid to ask the question because we are scared. What if the
answer is – you are weak, and a loser, and a quitter?

But merely being brave enough to ask
the question, take on the risk, makes us stronger. A Through-Hiker who has to
leave the trail due to injury or weather is still stronger than the wannabe
sitting at home waiting for the perfect moment to try. Willingness to show up
makes us a little braver each time.

The greatest adventures are often
the simplest. Maybe even mundane. And they are laced with vulnerability.

Loving someone is uncertain and
risky. Putting our art, our writing, our photography, our ideas, our music out
into the world with no assurance of acceptance or appreciation is extremely vulnerable.

One of my current mundane
adventures: I’m relearning how to run, nowadays. It’s my post-foot-surgery post-arthritis-diagnosis
running phase.

I’ll admit that what I do is more hobble
than elegant gait. And I’m not always comfortable doing it on public streets in
front of friends and neighbors. For someone who writes about the joys of
running as much as I do, for someone who had published a book titled, Running With God, I feel like I should
be better at it.

People have even asked if I’m race
walking now, so I work hard to have both feet off the ground at the same time …
the defining distinction between walking and running.

But moving is important. I’m happy
with small incremental gains, even gains that would have embarrassed me in the
past. I’m pleased when my pace drops into the 14-minute range because I think I
can do 13 next.

 And if I can do 13s, then 10s, and then maybe
even a 50K.

As I push my knees and learn how to
handle the new sensations in my legs, the very activity seems to add value to
life. It makes my heart happy. I end every run thanking God for his
encouragement.

I’m just not ready to sit down yet.
I hope there are lots more epic races in my future. Maybe even a long-distance
trek.

What are your adventures? Is there
something epic you dream of doing?

“I run in the path of Your
commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32