So, yesterday, I ran 4.4 miles. Wait, that sounds like I'm bragging. Wait, I think it is. But I'm not going to use the backspace key because it's more expressive that way. Is it? Dear God, here we go again. I just took the Lord's name in vain. Shouldn't do that. So I've been studying for about 2 hours a day now because it's sixth year and. Wait. No. I'm trying to learn how to do english thingamajigs properly, so we're going to start over. That's right. This is 22/5 take two.
I'm trying to be more coherent in my blog posts as of late. I've heard that my blogs can be very difficult to understand and a little too rambly, which has put friends of mine off of reading it. Which makes sense to me. So I shall forgo the undistilled spewing forth of my thoughts like thick, black, crude oil, and try to create some fuel which is more useful, some food for thought that can be digested. So, calmly, I'm gonna try to go through one thought. This thought will be written about running 4.4 miles, but really it's going to be about a little more than that.
So, as I testified on Facebook some weeks ago, I had ran the 2.2 mile run our school offers during cross country periods. I had ran it without stopping to walk. And I was "Pretty well chuffed". This week, we were given the option to run it twice, and I decided to go for it. Lately, I have been trying to be more healthy as of late. I bike about 6/7 days a week for about 15 minutes, and as the fellow junior he-leaders of the 10-12's camp will testify to, I have been doing weights as well. As my friend Michael so eloquently put it: "You know what Lorcan? Being healthy is overrated. You're just going to live a lot longer, and then we're all going to die. And then you'll just be alive, and it'll be lame." I do love Mike! Being fit has always really been a bit of a bit of a point of contention for me.
Mostly for body image reasons. Which is something that guys aren't that well renowned for dealing with, but there you go. Ironically, not that I have problems with looking unfit. Indeed, I'm quite comfortable at leisure with what I have described as my "noodle arms". Some of the happiest periods of my life have taken place when I am incapable of doing more than one pull-up. I find it easy to have no problems with my appearance at my leisure when I am not making an effort. Because I really, truly believe the human body is a beautiful thing all by itself.
I mean, really. We are the most beautiful machines that we have ever known. Thinking about it, we are capable of so many, many things. Allow me to set a baseline. The baseline is the other 99.9999% of creation. Think pluto. Think barren, frigid nothingness in which not even bacteria can survive. Our bodies are absolutely saturated with muscles, able to move and curl, bend and twist, and what's more, exert a force on this world. Our bodies are so insanely complex that it takes years and years and years and years of study to really understand them. We have a system to take in energy to keep us going, a system to let us feel pain and receive feedback from our surroundings, a system to think and keep thinking and think about thinking and the past, present and future. I could go on and on and on, but I won't. I suppose I find us pretty darn impressive, is all.
The problem arises when tension comes into the equation. At total rest, I have no problem concentrating on this facet of our beauty in complexity. But when one starts trying to improve upon oneself, to try and put some ornaments on one's temple, it can get rather consuming. The trouble is the up and down. As one notices bodily improvements, it is natural to rejoice. But once you seek the ups, one can't help but notice the downs. Sure, you've lost weight, but what about that face? Sure, there's been an increase in muscle mass, but what about that stomach? It's always been a problem for me. In years past, I've just given up, because I don't like grey. I much prefer black or white. All-consuming Ferver, or total apathy. But now, I am trying to do what Rob Bell would describe as: "Living in the tension". Briefly explained, this means that instead of sitting in one camp or another, you do the harder, healthier part and try to seek balance rather than comfort. And that's what I'm trying to do. And you're all invited to the gun show! (Please note, if I am to ever go *BAM!* while putting on display any part of my body, it is my wish, being of sound mind and body that I am to be instantly brought to, and disposed of, in the nearest incinerator.)
So I've completely forgotten what I was going to say about running. Probably something about how nifty it is or something, I can't even remember. And no, I haven't forgotten that I'm supposed to finish my post about camp, I'm just choosing to deliberately ignore it!
"There's Luke, consuming American soil!" - Mantage.
4 years ago