Come Jog with Me

6:00 am ... yeah right ...

9:05 am ... after I drop off the older two kids at Little People's School, I'm at the Rose Rudman park. I park in the perfect location, just north of Shiloh. Reason explained later. Pull out the jogging stroller that I borrowed from Chelsea. No wait, she borrowed it from Kristi W., so I guess technically, it's borrowed from Kristi. Thank God for good friends.

Strap in screaming child. For all he knows, I'm leaving him in this contraption that winds him through the woods unattended. Bless his heart. Tell other passers-by that he just doesn't like to get buckled in.

Lock car, put phone and keys in stroller pocket. Begin jogging south. Child stops screaming immediately.

It's a cold morning, so it's just "the regulars." Thoughts of potential sermons on "the regulars," integrity, perseverance, cloud of witness who have already run, etc. run through my head. I have no iPod, so my thoughts consume me. Better than the exhaustion that will threaten to take over later.

The regulars. There's the older man in the navy blue sweatsuit with big sunglasses. He's always there walking. There's the middle-aged woman who, no matter what I do, never smiles back. There's the lady who brings her old, fat beagle to chase squirrels up trees ... just doing what she was made to do. Usually there's the old lady who brings her two Chihuahuas and pushes them along in a stroller, but it's too cold for them today.

I smile to each one, and most smile back. We know we're the dedicated ones. Very few "newbies" today.

I create in my head life stories of each of the regulars and some of the more interesting "newbies." I pretty much have everyone figured out by now.

The playground is completely empty as I pass by. On a nice day there will be several SAHMs with their kids.

I cross under Reick and start on the new part of the trail. 4 bridges. One water fountain, at least when they get it finished. The construction crew isn't working today, but they have finished the cement in the gaps where the sidewalk meets the bridges. Very nice. No more boards to jump over. Very smooth.

Over the last bridge, the big one. I think I can, I think I can.

Put foot onto Grande and head back the same way I came. No short-cutting for this girl. Like line drills. You have to touch it.

Child dozes off and on. Oblivious to the fact that I've been with him this whole time. More semon possibilities.

Start reciting, "I will lift up my eyes unto the hills. From whence commeth my help?" Shove thought out of mind. It's too early in the run to be begging for help now. That will come later.

Try a song, "Dear Lord and Father of mankind, forgive our foolish ways." Now that's more like it.

Spot who appears to be a "good runner" ahead. I revert to my high school days and think, "If I just widen my stide a little, maybe I could pass him by the next bridge." Then compare his very long, trained legs to mine and laugh at myself. Hey, at least I'm out there.

Pass several "healthy" squirrels. They know they're in no danger and scurry off the path just at the last second.

Peel off outer layer and gloves and stuff in stroller pocket. Good, I'm working hard.

Try to do the math about how far I've run, since I really have no idea. The farther I run, the larger the number of miles gets. I'm almost afraid to know now. Afraid that it won't be nearly as far as I belive it to be.

Cross another bridge and find myself being grateful that an emergency vehicle could in fact drive over the bridges and get to me should anything happen.

Pass the creek. Find myself hoping to see a snake to give my body a shot of adrenaline. Realize that all I have to do is think about a snake, and I've given myself the shot. No, I don't want to see a snake. Ever.

Pass back by the playground where the excercise group has begun. Thankful for the music to take my mind off breathing.

Music fades in the distance. Back to counting breaths. Out, 1, 2, 3, 4, In, 1, 2, Out, 1, 2, 3, 4 ... I'm a lot louder than I ought to be. People actually move out of my way long before they need to because they think I'm a lot closer than I really am.

Pass high schoolers from Lee, probably forced to be out here on the trail for P. E. They're laughing and talking as they jog by. It used to be easy for me, too. But then I hear one say, "I hope I'm a jogging Momma someday." All is better, and I suddenly feel lighter on my feet. For a while.

Up the hill on the north side of Shiloh. See some really fit people jogging. Adjust posture.

Now up and over the creek on the bridge that heads east into the woods. Over halfway for sure.

Stay to the left for the first part to avoid the monster hill on the right. No way. Not yet. Maybe one day. A day without the stroller perhaps. One more bridge. Now head to the right.

Curve left and head north. Another curve, no, not that one ... That one. The last curve before the straight stretch where I can look way down and see the Tyler Cancer Bell, built in 2002 and dedicated to those who have fought the fight. I think of Papaw. Man, I miss him.

Round the corner and head west. Okay, now I can say it, "I will lift up my eyes unto the hills. From whence commeth my help? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth." I say it like that because that's how we sang it in college.

Round the last corner by Lee HS and head south. Soon I will be able to see the van. Like I said, the perfect spot because I can see it from far away running this route. A little motivation goes a long way.

Rejoice as I reach the van. I have survived another jog.

Go around to unstrap child. He looks at me in the same place as I was the last time he saw me, as if to say, "You have no idea where all I've been!"

Drink my Powerade Zero and go home.

Success!