Making something out of nothing

Making something out of nothing. That’s the phrase that coursed through my brain yesterday, for the many, many minutes it took me to huff and puff through my eighteen-mile run.

The nothing part was my pre-run procrastination. The friend who was supporting my run – meeting me with water and Gatorade every few miles, came to my house right on time to find me still getting dressed, still figuring out my route, finishing my coffee, in short doing everything but warming up for my run.  The fact I wasn’t ready physically was a reflection of the fact that I wasn’t prepared mentally either, though obviously there was something working in some part of my brain prepping me and telling me it was time, because I finally got out the door.  I guess what I'm saying is that even in my nothingness there were the seeds of something. 

Mind and body finally met up. It just took ten miles of road for it to happen.  

There were other nothings before yesterday too. There was a lot of internal turmoil, maybe not a nothingness but certainly a quite unproductive something during most of my May “comeback” marathon, comeback in quotes because it was a tepid return, and tepid here is being kind, because I had a crampy run and a crappy attitude.   

There are good ways and bad ways to handle runs when you feel lousy. That particular day, I mostly forgot to be grateful and instead mostly focused on whining, forgetting that every step forward is always a good thing. 

Finishing was something else. I was so glad I’d taken those first steps. I was so happy when I was done.  

Gratitude, I find, is always the best way to get through tough times.

What we do, as runners, as parents, as children, as workers, as living breathing human beings is spend our time making something out of nothing. We start as blank canvases. What happens next – my take on things -- is largely a result of chance, along with some combination of nature and nurture.  I’m not sure which category dreams and hopes fit into. I’ll let the scientists and philosophers duke that one out. I just know dreaming and hoping, for me anyhow, is huge.

This weekend, I learned that a dear friend of my daughter’s decided it was time to end his life. A few days ago, he jumped off a bridge into a river. A bystander went in after him, but it was too late. The poor kid’s fall had already done irreparable damage to his system. He’s been in the ICU the last few days. This morning, his family is letting him go.

Just twelve hours before the jump, he visited with my daughter and a few other friends and co-workers. He hugged them and told them how much he loved them. He had a few drinks, and left a great tip. He said good-bye. No one thought anything in particular about his actions. He seemed happy. Everyone had a great time. No alarm bells went off.

Of course, now in retrospect, his loved ones are parsing his every move. What did we miss?  Was there anything we could have done?

I understand he was a pretty neat person. Aren’t most people, once you get to know them?

He emigrated here on his own from Europe seven years ago. He loved the United States and chose to make his home in our nation’s capital. He adopted a nickname that reflected his love of all things American. Texas Dave is what he liked to be called.

He was loved. He was admired. He wasn’t perfect. He had demons. Don’t we all.

Making something out of nothing pretty much sums up for me – today, what we do, as we make our journey from birth to death. 

If you’ve got a second or two, please keep Texas Dave – Dave Martin, and his family in your thoughts and prayers. I'm sure his friends, co-workers, the doctors and nurses who worked on him, and that remarkable stranger who rushed in to help, could use some kindness too. 

Kindness. That's a great word too. Right up there with up there with gratitude.