passing
a few weeks back (3 days before the marathon, actually!), i got a dose of food poisoning at work, and on the ride home, i was terribly sick and flirting with a migraine. i could barely stand to look at the road, but i made it home, only to find myself kneeling in the bathroom 60 seconds later. after that, i thought "god, how did i possibly make it home without getting sick in the car?"
my answer to that was simply "i made it home because i had to."
i've certainly been asked in times past about marathon running: "okay, so you're at mile 20 of your last marathon. you're body's shot, your mind's numbing, how can you possibly go any further at that moment?"
the answer is quite simple: "i still have 10k to go."
i certainly believe that, save the case of accident or illness, the individual has some degree of a say as to what happens with their body, whether it be as trivial as keeping your stomach down for another minute, or as misunderstood as living for another day in the twilight years of life. i just can't imagine that, if i have basic mobility and mental capacity, i could just keel over out-of-the-blue on a day when i woke up thinking that i'd live to see my bed again that night. i suspect that's how some folks die in their sleep--it's the only chance that the body has to trump the conscious mind. and if life became a struggle in the late years due to whatever, that it would be akin to holding a 25 lb. weight with your arm straight out: you can do it for a long time--minutes, hours--but not forever. and that time doesn't end when your arm rips itself out of its socket and falls off, rather when you decide to simply release your grip given the conditions.
and as was presented to me by mile 21 of austin 2004, and quite possibly again this past weekend, the sense of calm brought by release is proportional to the resolve of the controlling arm.
in memoriam, bcy 1924-2005
my answer to that was simply "i made it home because i had to."
i've certainly been asked in times past about marathon running: "okay, so you're at mile 20 of your last marathon. you're body's shot, your mind's numbing, how can you possibly go any further at that moment?"
the answer is quite simple: "i still have 10k to go."
i certainly believe that, save the case of accident or illness, the individual has some degree of a say as to what happens with their body, whether it be as trivial as keeping your stomach down for another minute, or as misunderstood as living for another day in the twilight years of life. i just can't imagine that, if i have basic mobility and mental capacity, i could just keel over out-of-the-blue on a day when i woke up thinking that i'd live to see my bed again that night. i suspect that's how some folks die in their sleep--it's the only chance that the body has to trump the conscious mind. and if life became a struggle in the late years due to whatever, that it would be akin to holding a 25 lb. weight with your arm straight out: you can do it for a long time--minutes, hours--but not forever. and that time doesn't end when your arm rips itself out of its socket and falls off, rather when you decide to simply release your grip given the conditions.
and as was presented to me by mile 21 of austin 2004, and quite possibly again this past weekend, the sense of calm brought by release is proportional to the resolve of the controlling arm.
in memoriam, bcy 1924-2005
