Running & Talking

You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely.

—Psalm 139:3–4

When I began training for the Chicago Marathon, the runners kind of freaked me out. Every time someone mentioned a ten- or twenty-mile run with glee and anticipation, my stomach dropped. Then they’d say something like, If you can get to the starting line, you can get to the finish line. That didn’t seem remotely true and didn’t help at all.

But I went back week after week. I began to understand what drove the acronyms and slogans and the almost violent positivity: you need that kind of enthusiasm to get you up that early, to prod you along those miles.

Every Saturday, the Team World Vision runners showed up under the tender, brightening sky, nervous and sleepy. We ran and talked and ran and talked. It’s amazing what you’ll say out loud at mile 15, when no one’s looking you in the eye. You talk about chafing and rashes and digestive abnormalities, and then someone tells the story of how she got sober, or what it was like when his mother died. It’s all out there, with nothing but the drumbeat of your feet and the rhythm of your ragged breath and the green of the trees on the path.