Struggles as a Place of Expectation

The trail goes on. There is a call of God on our lives. It is a song. When I sit quietly before Him I hear the ache and longing, I feel the pull of eternity and His whispers – songs beckoning me to Him, drawing me. Oh, to be like Him, loving Him more fully and clearly, knowing Him more perfectly. This is the song. Yet at times the weariness of the road wears on me, the sameness, the drone, the constant pressure in this fallen place on the redeemed heart. We take the long road. We run the trails.

Stirred from a fitful attempt to sleep by the flight attendants and the promise of something to eat, I cracked my eyes open a bit, dropped my tray table, and awaited the breakfast meal. We were coming into Buenos Aires after an almost 9 ½ hour leg from Atlanta. I had begun my journey from Minneapolis, and had been traveling since a 2pm takeoff the day before. I glanced over my left shoulder and caught an image of a radiant orange band of light indicating an approaching dawn. A short time later the sun was streaming into the window of our aircraft. It was Sunday morning over Argentina.

My previous entry to this blog was written at the end of January. It is now the end of March. Almost two full months have passed with many trails and adventures, and little time to chronicle the wonder along the way. It is time to reflect and time to share some of the texture of these passing days. There was a modest run of 5.53 miles near Austin, Texas, a few runs near my home in Minnesota in various directions and distances, 10.13, 4.25, and 15 miles. A few treadmill workouts in upstate New York, and a couple of runs in Buenos Aires of 6.25 and 10.5 miles with temperatures in the mid-80Fs and humidity standing at 87% in a near dead calm. These last runs a week ago in Argentina pushed me to new levels of endurance as I purposely layered them with intense elliptical, interval workouts to challenge myself. When I arrived at the hotel yesterday, I cleaned up, had a real breakfast, slept for two hours, and went for an 8 mile run in the same park as two weeks ago – Ecologica Reserva along the Rio de la Plata. The temperature was 79F, 79% humidity – again, a dead calm - perfect for an endurance workout. This run was a real study in determination and endurance. I began the run physically flat-lined, nearly exhausted from my travels, but set myself to run at least 6 miles. As it turned out, I was reluctant to stop at 6, so I just kept plodding along through the heat and discomfort. It was good for me.

As we cling to Him through struggles there is a deepening in our hearts, a growing trust and anticipation of His glory. I love this place of expectation. The difficulties seem to fade to the background as we focus on His loving purposes through the hardship. The trails seem to offer me a place to train for life’s deeper struggles. And – as with the running – I find a growing trust and anticipation of His glory through the hard things.

Nevertheless, I am continually with you;
you hold my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will receive me to glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
Asaph [Psalm 73:23-25]

The trails continue for me, and I run them as I can. I find a feast, a richness of life along these winding ways. But I hear His song. Yes, the way grows weary and the road is long. But this is a trail that I have not charted. Another much wiser than I laid this route before me before time began. And so I run. I run with my whole heart. I train along these trails for the struggles yet unseen. I find the wonders with every turn and savor the glory He has scattered in abundance all around me. Sometimes the song comes on the wind or in the melody of birds. Sometimes the laughter of children lifts my soul to heaven. And so I run. Will you come along? Will you set your course to run? There is a call on the wind. Do you hear it? Let us run hard and true. Let us not be set back by hardship and struggle, but push on and savor these trails laid out before us.

Dance Along Eternity’s Glimmering Edge

Sometimes when I run I discover a new world, an enchanted place for dreaming where my imagination drifts high into the heavens and seems to brush the divine. Almost as an afterthought, I skirt the edges of eternity and run past a thousand sacred moments in my pursuit of lesser things. How do I miss the holy moments so easily, and casually overlook the deepest considerations? Friday morning, 29 January 2010, at 8:32am I was standing on the trail’s edge anxious to get moving. I had lingered a half hour longer than planned enjoying a second cup of coffee. But now I faced my next challenge and was itching to go. It was a quiet morning in Saint Edwards State Park near Seattle, hazy without direct sunlight, subdued, still; a canvas as yet unpainted. I was planning an intense workout, and that is just what I got. I ran three circuits - each including a steep descent down the North Trail, running along Lake Washington, a steep climb up the South Trail, returning down the South Trail descending hard, along the water again, and pounding up the North Trail. Three of these circuits measured a total of 10.6 miles in 3:01 hours ascending 4314 feet and descending 4348. This was a lot of up and down in the space of 10 miles over 3 hours – at least for me. And I felt fabulous after the run. This certainly was one of my strongest workouts to date.

But the forest gave me much to think about, and the thoughts have lingered on in my mind. As I moved along the trails, the old growth forests hung heavy with time and age, the massive trunks of standing pines, the ancient fern beds and ivy cover, and ever present moss gathering at the whisper of any moist, northern exposure. I could feel the near timelessness of the place. And in it all I felt as if the forest itself was hung as a rich curtain of opulent colors and fragrance, draped in time and mystery and a thousand stories of love and sorrow – and I was running through it unaware of the magnitude of the moment or the place; running on the edge of many other lives. Each step a sound, an echo, a ripple back to other moments and adventures. At times the trail was nothing but a blur, at other times I took in its great detail. I passed numerous shelters that wildlife had used, hollowed trunks and burrows. I wondered about the shelter I have found in the Word of God and in His faithfulness. As I crashed down a steep descent I felt His courage rise within me. As I began a steep climb with no energy left within me, I found His strength sufficient to each step. And as I ran, as I pushed beyond the limits I had known it seemed in some measure that I needed to set myself aside, to die to my efforts –again and again, casting myself on Him, on His sure faithfulness. With each moment I needed to die to me so that I could live to Him.

The great curtain of forest hangs before us all with every trail we run. This wonderland of beauty carries us away with its loveliness and seems to press us into another world beyond. The trails we run are not the simple trails of creatures earthbound and common. Rather, these trails – they are pathways to the heart, trails to truer things. These trails let us dance and weave along eternity’s glimmering edge. We play in this timeless majesty. We are hearing the sounds of heaven in the small gurgling brooks, catching the fragrance of His glory in the ancient aroma of the woodlands, and feeling the wing of an angel on the edge of a passing breeze. Step high, my friend, along these trails that we run together. Oh, may we run hard and true. Step high for we encounter things more sacred and pure than ever we would have thought. We hear the voice of God as He whispers to our hearts for we have seen Him painting a canvas with every trail we have ever run.

Deep Fragrance, Mud, and Wonder

A little over a week ago I left my home at 1:18 in the afternoon and headed for Birch Island Park. I worked some of my favorite hills, crossing the crusty ice and snow, and finding my rhythm along the afternoon trails - feeling the edge of winter in the cold air, the freeing, fresh atmosphere of the day. Covering 6.40 miles in 1:41 hours, I ascended 1059 feet and descended 1055. The moment seemed sacred and my heart was drawn to consider this mystery. Are these places so rich with His glory that they are holy places? I wonder.

One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life,
to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple. [Psalm 27:4]

A few days later I hit the trail in Purgatory Park at 6:55am. Predawn, cold, and very quiet. I circuited the park a number of times and accumulated 10.05 miles in 2:17 hours, ascending 1277 feet and descending 1301. It was a good, solid workout, and yet the echoes of my previous run were resonating in my heart and mind. I could hear each footfall and felt the miles wind out before me. I had as my original objective a 5-7 mile effort, but was caught in the moment, the place and sense that these were special times reserved for Him. How could I so easily separate myself from the glory and wonder? I could not, and so I ran on. It was a good run, and in a way I could gaze upon the beauty of the Lord. As I meditated on these simple things it was like inquiring in His temple. I loved this run and this place. But there were more trails ahead.

It was a few days later that I landed in Seattle WA, checked into a hotel, and headed immediately to Saint Edwards State Park. I had visited this park before, and knew I was in for a treat. It was 3:39pm, and I was hungry for trails and a strong workout, and off I went. It took me 2:14 hours to cover 7.25 miles, ascending 3609 feet and descending 3620. Yes, there were some mighty nice hills involved and I was loving it! This was the primary reason I selected this park. In Saint Edwards I ran among the old growth forests, breathing in the deep fragrance of woodlands, of ferns and moss and soil. The temperature was mid 50s. Some areas needed careful navigation. Recent rains had turned steep descents muddy and very slick. I managed to avoid a crash and left the trails deeply refreshed and satisfied with the intensity. It was very good. In fact, it is always good to dig deep within ourselves, to push beyond the limits we think we have and to find new levels of endurance and strength. Trails have taught me many things. But maybe it’s not the trails as much as my companion along the trails. I am never alone. The beautiful trails and woodlands are simply the handiwork of my Creator. As I run these foot paths and witness the continuing displays of wonder, I just see the profound testimony of His continuing faithfulness and His love of beauty. This is all around me. It is this display of His greatness and glory that carries me along, strengthens me along the way, and brings me to each trail’s end. Running the trails gives me a deep sense of gratitude. My heart seems larger each time I run. This is why I feel compelled to run the distance, because I am running as a simple testimony to Him. Will I see you down the trail? We could run together into His breathtaking wonders holding to our course with the strength that He supplies. I’ll be watching for you. Until then, run hard and run true, my friend.

Hard Crusty Ice and Broken Trail

Sometimes it seems that I am being followed by glory. It clings to my garments with laughter and mirth, with spontaneity, a wild, natural joy. But at other times a great weariness settles on me with haunting shadows, and my heart becomes weighty and tired. And yet the trail remains. The trail strings out in front of me each day drawing me into my tomorrows. And so I must run through these things, these changing moods and winds of the each day. I must run through both the glories and the shadows that confront me. And here the trail becomes my teacher of deep things. It teaches me to carry on, to go forward in the face of challenge, and to run through my joys and my sorrows; to run as I run my trails – taking the paths boldly and full of faith in the One Who Made these trails for me. I run full-hearted even as the distance presses me hard; I go for the trail’s end with all that I have. He has given me this heart to hold. I run for Him.

On Monday, 4 January at 7:50am I went out with my 30-year-old daughter for a quick run in nearby Purgatory Park. We did 2 laps. It was -12F (-24C), and dangerously cold. We covered 2.44 miles in 31:38 minutes. By then, we had had enough and just wanted breakfast and hot coffee. Sometimes there is nothing better than a hot cup of coffee. But we had gone out into the frigid cold. We did it! A few days later on Thursday, 7 January, she and I were in northern Minnesota, near Ulen, and figured that a short run was in order. It was just before noon. So among the corn fields and farming silos, along the country roads and wide spaces of the prairie, we covered a 3.06 mile route around the small town in 36:45 minutes. It was -8F (-22C), so it was still a bit nippy. But we kept moving. Again, we did it! Later that day at sunset, we saw “sundogs” (rainbows each side of the setting sun). One could almost imagine that there were three suns setting that night. We were so blessed. What can we say of such wonders in this world? Surrounded as we are by glory continually, it is easy to overlook the constant grandeur and breathtaking strength of our Lord as He holds all things together by the word of His power. Yes, we are just men, and this universe is so vast, so infinite. It seems we can never grasp it. Sometimes it is good just to have a trail to follow, to keep things in perspective.

A few days back on Wednesday, 13 January at 7:51am I went out alone from my home headed for trails and hills. It was 23F (-6C), near ideal for running. I made for Birch Island Park and dropped into the woods 11 minutes later. This was like heaven. Crisp, snowy trails, the hush of early morning in a winter woodland, stillness yet vastly alive, teeming with life, subdued glory but crystal-like and brilliant. My footfalls tracing along a single trail, and later along little used tracks, high-stepping through 8-12 inches of snow cover, irregular steps and uneven tracks to follow – a thousand glories and challenges wrapped into my 2:22 hours of running. I covered 7.59 miles, ascending 1377 and descending 1325. I was working my hills and loving every minute of it. In fact, I was so taken with my surroundings that I snapped over 30 pictures; breathless with the wonder. It was a magnificent run.

Along the way I was thinking of how our trails are filled with a mingling of joys and sorrows. I was considering how we grow trail weary and discouraged even as we track through such wonderlands of beauty. But as trail runners we have learned to handle some of this. It is one of the great things about our running life – adapting, having the discipline, having the passion, reaching for hard goals, seeing things through, and – all the while - grasping the wonder and joy in the midst of our struggles. And I was considering that this mix of joy and sorrow is common to anyone who has been on life’s trails for any length time. It is the challenge we all face. As I ran, I listened to the worshipful singing of Josh Garrells (http://www.joshgarrels.com/).

“When we were young
We walked where we wanted to
Life was ours,
And now we’re old
We go where we’re told
The Lord’s Spirit calls,
He’s singing
Follow my road to sorrow and joy
Be intertwined,
And find
All things are under my wings
And rise,
Given time…” [from Desert Father by Josh Garrells]

My feet traced the snow-packed, single-track wooded trail through the growing light. It had been awhile since my training had been consistent. I could feel the impact of my earlier high-stepping through snow cover, of the irregular surfaces of hard crusty ice and broken trail, of the hill repeats and distance. I was growing tired. So I fixed my thoughts on my run’s end and kept to my course. You know how the story ends, because you are a runner. In the end, I finished - coming up into the driveway of my home. Some few minutes later I was lingering over a hot cup of coffee and savoring the memory of my delicious morning adventure. We thread our way along forest paths, across fields, and anywhere our hearts are drawn. And in the end we have learned much about ourselves. We have seen with each step a flicker of glory and a shadow of sorrow. With each trail and run, we have savored the wonders and touched the hard things, too. We have had great happiness and borne sadness on our way. This is our life and our days; and the trails have been our teachers. Come with me, friend, and run hard and true. Let us run the race that is set before us.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us... [Hebrews 12:1]

I hope to see you down the trail. We share so many things. I run for the sheer joy that is set before me. I run with everything I have in me. The trail is often hard, but I do not run alone. I’ll be looking for you. Keeping running.

Bridge from Despair to Hope

The light is coming now. In the growing light I have expectations. I watch the last day of 2009 unwrap itself with possibility. And yet the weariness is there. The world weighs on me. I set aside this quiet despair and choose my ever-present hope, “the lifter of my head”.

"But you, O Lord, are a shield about me, my glory, and the lifter of my head." [Psalm 3:3]

I cling, as I do each morning of my life, to the Lord Jesus. We cross this bridge together – He and I - from despair to hope in twinkling of the eye; in a moment of the heart; as the day dawns. I reach for Him and His deep, firm comforts, and the haunting shadows slip away. The world looses its hold on me. The light increases, the day breaks, the sun rises - a fresh, new morning. The Lord has made all things new. It will be a good day.

Today I feel my sore muscles from the 10K winter run yesterday. It took me 1:31 hours to cover 6.2 miles. Several days before, my daughter Abbey was looking for a run, so we laid down a bit over 5K in the afternoon in about 39 minutes. Over these most holy days my running has been irregular, so I expect to feel the soreness and impact of almost any run. But I was determined to run early yesterday morning. The night before, I set out my things so that I could push out the door as soon as I woke. The challenge was simply to leap over that first hurdle, to break through that initial resistance, and get to the thing at hand. And so I found myself on the edge of Purgatory Park at 6:30am yesterday morning. It was dark, but just so. I decided against the headlamp in this earliest dim light of darkness, and pushed off to the left, clockwise, up the slope along the plowed trail that surrounds the park. This is a circuit of 1.23 miles, undulating hills and gentle slopes with numerous pleasant perspectives - when you can see them. I was enjoying the early morning brace of raw cold and the bite in the occasion breeze, my feet crunching along the ice and snow, a rhythm in footfalls, almost quiet, and so peaceful – yes, restful almost. Here a person can sort things out, can pray and worship and wait on the counsel of the Lord in the breathtaking silence of early morning. Words are few, thoughts are heaven bound, and my feet trace a trail along the snowy ways. I take the gentle inclines as they come, and once each circuit (I will make five circuits plus a little), I climb steeply to the park’s summit, off-road on a single foot trail, carved by those of us who simply cannot resist the glorious pleasure of this view from highest spot above the park. With each climb to the summit I pause amazed, and gaze out across the breathtaking vista. A fairly small park - but so beautiful. It is rich with God’s fingerprints. This park may be one of His smaller canvases as far as landscapes, but His work is masterful and divine; glory-laden wonders laid out plain for us. You don’t need to be a theologian to see His sign here. It is plain.

"Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory,
for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness!" [Psalm 115:1]

The light is coming. How could you ever miss God here? It seems impossible. And then I resume the run, the rhythm along the snowy path in the ever-increasing light of the morning. The rhythm, the cadence of life that has come to expect God’s wonder in a thousand twists and surprises; the ever-turning, cycling seasons; the crazy madcap wonder in a child’s joy and delight; the sun and rain, the blazing glory of the rising sun each day as God whispers His common grace across the morning. I resume my run into His wonder, into His grace. I run because of Him.

Sometimes when I look back over my shoulder I catch a glimpse of despair approaching. I feel the weight and troubles, the darkness of the world and the weariness, hope seems to hang lifeless there. And the darkness begins to close in on me. Then He comes - bold, light of dawn, breaking across the horizon.

"And he who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.'” [Revelation 21:5]

The Lord comes as I have been taught by every sunrise that I have ever seen. He comes in glory and wonder, and He comes in His faithfulness and hope. He comes as I place my hope and trust in Him. No, the troubles will not vanish, but he will give me the strength to run, to love, to forgive. He will lift me as I reach out to Him. He will comfort me as I listen to Him. His words are true and simple. I hear my footsteps crunching on the snowy trail. I feel the rhythm in my steps that He has taught me over the many miles together. His grace abounds and it only remains for me to accept His love in this dark, harsh world. I feel the cold, but even the bite of winter reminds me of His constant provision and grace. Oh, may we run! May we feel His kindness with each step along the trail. Let’s run hard and true! Oh, may we run hard and true for Him. Come with me today, my friend. Life’s trails lay out before us, and they are unknown to us. How shall we run and for whom?

A Weight of Wonder and a Feast

The trails wind out before us and our feet have touched a thousand places as the wonders have spread out before our eyes. We are captives of these fleeting glories, wanderers in this special world created for us by the loving hands of God. We are most blessed.

It is Tuesday morning, 8 December 2009, Kolkata India. Yesterday I ran a 5K on the hotel treadmill. Today I will do a 10K on the same machine. It has been over a month since I have written in this place about the trails we run and the struggles we face on the way. And like you all, the trails and challenges continue whether we write or not. Since the last time I wrote, I have traveled 45,000 miles and dusted the trails and treadmills in four counties on three continents. And the trails and struggles have attended me with each new place. Each fresh trail has offered a feast of difficulties and a feast of things to behold. Along with the struggles, I have found beauty and wonder that stretches my heart and sends my spirit to soaring to new heights. These wings to fly seem to come of the rarified air in the times of struggle and hardship. So I cannot turn away from the hard places. They are by design for my good. The difficulties seem to prepare our hearts to see with more clarity and insight. Is it the same for you?

Since I wrote of the old growth forests, the ancient trees and their abiding mystery, I have been many places – almost moving too quickly to pause and appreciate, to allow the air of each new place to tease me into a run and into fresh discoveries. Looking back over these weeks, the past lays out in a crazy, wandering line. But let me share. Late October found me pounding out a 10.36 mile trail run in the Reserva Ecologica in Buenos Aires, Argentina. In early November I managed a 10K and a 5K treadmill run in Sao Paulo, Brazil, followed a few days later by a 13.86 mile run in the Parque Ibirapuera. Returning to Buenos Aires in mid-November, I managed to squeeze in a 7.13 mile run in the Reserva Ecologica. Returning home, I had the opportunity to run a 5K on Thanksgiving (26 November). A good friend of mine, Brian, suggested running from his home (insert 6:30am start and 6.75 miles here) to the 5K event. It was wonderful. An early morning run in the pre-dawn darkness. My total for the day – 9.85 miles. In late November/early December, I returned to Buenos Aires only briefly – enough to drop a 5K on a treadmill – and head for home before coming to India. This is a recap of my last 9 runs.

I could almost fit these nine runs on the back of a postcard. But could I? No. It cannot be done. For truly each run, each experience and challenge we lay before ourselves and follow through on - each one carries a weight of wonder and a feast for the heart’s enchantment. A mere description of place and time and distance cannot capture the spirit of the place, the struggles and attitudes, the dark challenges that tell us to give up and quit; no mere recap can capture the lovely rays of light that dance on leaves, a thousand glimmering jewels of dew and the early morning breeze coming from the Río de la Plata near Puerto Madero in Buenos Aires. It takes your whole heart. It is not words, it is life. These are not mere facts to be listed. Rather, they are the fingerprints of the living God on our lives - His world spun into being by His own hand; and we are given the opportunity to handle it, to see and smell it’s deep hues, and wonder at it manifold complexities and mystery. We are given this window to see Him and know that He is there. I would not miss this for the world.

The trails will continue and the wonder will never cease. He is Lord and His world declares His greatness each time we slip on our shoes and start down a trail. We, each of us in our own way, begin to see Him more clearly and with greater reverence than the last trail we ran. I must run and I must declare His place along the road. Will you come along and see? Will you run the trails and watch for His unmistakable fingerprints in every living thing? I hope to see you soon. Let’s run together and see. Let’s run hard and true into the breaking light and the glories that abound.

Old Growth Forests and the Quiet of the Ancient

It seemed like only a few days ago that I was running in Vancouver BC, and now I was standing at the trail entry to Bridle Trails State Park near Seattle, Washington. I had seen it on the maps. It looked intriguing – and it was; the same lofty pines reaching into the heavens. Looking up I tried to take in the forest canopy far above, holding out the light, misty rain with an intimate coolness. To take it in, took my breath away; a vast and ancient covering. There just are no words to convey being in this ancient place. I seemed suspended in time. Then the trails beckoned me. It was 3:30pm Monday, 19 October 2009 and I was on the trails. Over the next hour and 50 minutes (1:50) I covered 6.84 miles ascending 3252 feet and descending 3199 for a humbling pace of 16:10 minutes per mile. But this was fine by me, I was here to enjoy this beautiful place and soak up God’s natural wonders afresh. Dashing among the ferns and the old stumps of long ago, I breathed in the fragrance of the woods. And the quiet; oh, the treasured, hallowed quiet of these massive, ancient forests. At one point I came to a large clearing in the trees of about 150 feet in across. I felt like I was in the huge hall of a cathedral, the spires rising into the heavens, the silence across the huge open space, and a hallowed atmosphere hanging in the magical air. All this was further heightened by the autumn colors bursting richly into view. As I emerged from the trees and headed for my car, I felt as if I’d just come from a prayer time with God. The run was good and the atmosphere was deeply moving. I came away with a renewed clarity that God, my God, the Lord of the heavens and the earth – He had made it all; and I had just been with Him in His beautiful creation. He was everywhere.

During the week my colleagues suggested another place for running. Friday I headed for Saint Edwards State Park. I got to the place about noon, and had only time for an hour-long run before taking off to the airport. So off I went. This park was also stunning in its ancient beauty and rich forest coverings, the ferns and underbrush, the splay of fall colors and the high-over-head canopy of leaves, the trails twisting along a natural flow of the land, first winding through the trees, and then descending, descending, descending until I stood on the shore of Lake Washington. A quick check on the time, and I was burning up the steep incline and dashing along the trails that I had just covered going the other way. In the initial stage of my run I had maintained an active though not crazy pace. Now I was pushing the clock and needed to make swift tracks. I noticed that even though I was really cruising as I came out of the woods heading for my car, I could not ignore the glory that hangs – it seems always to hang – in these forest lands. In 57 minutes I covered 3.87 miles for a pace of 14:43. I had ascended 2614 feet and descended 2621. I think these woods have made my heart a little bigger. In some ways, God seems closer still to me – having been in these old-growth forests.

It is a good thing to look long and quietly at the world that God has made. I am so glad that I can run them and experience these places, taste these wonders, these declarations of His glory and magnificence. These were old-growth forests, ancient and deeply beautiful in their glory. And yet they pale beside their maker. If these woods and their delight can take my breath away, what shall become of me? God’s glory is immeasurably greater and more wonderful. If I were not infinitely loved, I would be afraid. But I trust Him wholly. These runs have shown me ancient forests. And yet it is the Ancient of Days that I run after. It is Him that I seek. Will you come? Let’s run hard and true. It is not the woods that call to us, it is the Lord Himself.