When the universe gives you a sign, sing along

Sometimes when I run, I make the sign of the cross. In the name of the Father (forehead), Son (chest), Holy (left shoulder) Spirit (right Shoulder). I started doing it way before that football player got everyone hooked on Tebowing. When I run, I make other signs too. Like, when I’m jogging up a hill, I’ll do a thumbs up with both thumbs to remind myself to stay strong. And sometimes I give the one-fingered salute, but only if a driver really deserves it.  But I always begin and end every run with the sign of the cross.  It’s my thing. 

I think I started this running/making the sign of the cross when I first started training for marathons. I don’t remember the exact day or time or why, but this makes sense: I was worn out and far from home, and just needed something to help me keep putting one foot in front of the other. I’m pretty sure that’s when I crossed myself while running for the first time. I remember being embarrassed about drivers seeing me do it. 

Now I don’t care who sees me and sometimes I’ll deliberately cross myself at busy intersections just because there ARE lots of cars there. Having witnesses cements something inside me and helps me feel more committed and stronger. 

  

Somewhere down the line, again it was many years ago on one of those many long runs,  my reason for making the sign of the cross changed. Instead of doing it to ask for help, it became my way of expressing thanks to whatever force out there, or set of circumstances or who knows what, that made my biggest problem on that particular day a relatively silly one -- getting up some hill or across some bridge. 

In other words, it finally occurred to me one day that maybe rather than asking for help, I should be acknowledging how lucky I am. I’m not dying on the streets of Calcutta. I’m not wasting away at the top of a liver transplant list. I’m running huge distances of my own volition. Any misery I’m feeling? Geez. I’ve brought it on myself. And in the grand scheme of things?  I have no business complaining and have every reason to be thankful.  

I don’t know what my religion is any more, but I do know that I have it pretty good. I have a roof over my head, a steady job, and the ability to run fairly long distances at ridiculously slow speeds.  

Today I crossed myself at least a half dozen times.  The first time was when I started my run. Springsteen's Promised Land was the first song on my shuffle. If there's one other thing I believe in, besides always being grateful, it's this: when the universe gives you a great sign, sing along. The last time I crossed myself was as I finished and realized that even though I was stopping, I had another mile or so in the tank. Believe it or not, Promised Land was playing again. 

Two weeks ago I barely made it through five miles. I was flattened like roadkill. Today I ran nine and could have done more. I know that eventually there's "gonna be a twister to blow everything down." But for now, I'm grateful and I'm good.