Saturday, February 5, 2011

Mud Puddles

(OK! Sometimes I break my own rules. I mean if you’re going to break other people’s rules then you need to be honest about it and break your own sometimes. Today’s one of those days. Things happened that were more important than rules. I stepped out of the routine, I was with people that I’m not with enough, and my daughter ran with me for the first time since she was in High School. So here is today’s musing. Six and a half hours behind schedule. Who cares? I had a wonderful six and a half hours!)

I ran the 5 K in the Tybee Race today, an annual celebration of runners with the choice of a Marathon (26.2 Miles), Half-Marathon (13.1 Miles) and 5 K (3 ½ Miles for the not-so stupid runner who want to hit the bear tent first!).

(I wonder who came up with this distance. 26.2 Miles? How random is that? “Honey, run to the store and get me cigarettes.” This was in ancient times so running to the store really meant running to the store. The store happened to be 26.2 Miles. That is how Marathons were born!)

It is a mass of spandex, running shorts, sweat, spit, Power-Aid, paper cups littering the road and by-standers either cheering or watching in silence. There is a lot to see. It really is fun to do and also to watch.

Surrounded by friends and stunned that my daughter Kristen showed up to run (she hasn’t run since High School and that’s been a while) after words of instruction, encouragement from Dale Critz the sponsor and the longest version of the “Star Spangled Banner” in the history of live music, we were told get ready!

Then we were off!

Meaning everybody kind of ran in place or walked until we were a mile into the 5K when the crowd thinned out. That is when Kristen showed up wearing a rain coat. It didn’t seem to bother her as she ran along beside us. Her friend Sterling was with her and he is a serious runner, also wearing a rain coat, and determined to show how fast he is. Meaning he ran like ten yards in front of us.

Did I mention it was raining?

It poured then it stopped and then it poured some more. Mud puddles were everywhere. Now most people do not like mud puddles. Especially old people! They are afraid that they might slip and fall in them and break a brittle bone.

Vane people don’t like them either! The clothes that they are wearing might be splattered with mud and we all know “It is more important to look good than it is to feel good!”

But there was this kid in front of us. Perhaps twelve, he didn’t see a mud puddle that he didn’t love. He stomped into the water, danced through the puddle and had it all over him. He was a joy to watch!

“If I were closer to the finish I would do that,” my friend told me.

That made me want a mud puddle at that moment! Wouldn’t you know it? There were no real good ones until the end of the race. Though later, my friend did this spectacular ballerina leap across one landing in the middle of it. If it had been an Olympic competition the score would have been:

Technique – 10
Distance – 6
Height – 0

Anyway, I like mud puddles. Goddess loves them passionately! She loves to walk through the middle of them, dragging her tongue through the water and shaking her coat to throw off the wetness every once in a while.

After the race, the rain, and crowd, Goddess and I took a walk. She ran through every puddle that she saw. Happy and full of joy! And I thought of that twelve year old boy running and stomping into every one he encountered.

Joy can be found in the wet, dirty places as much as anywhere else. I wonder why we spend so much time ignoring them. We want perfection. We want sanitized. We want Fairy Tales. What’s wrong with mud? And life’s not always that clean.

According to my friends Mitch and Mary Ann it is the dark, wet dreary places where life and love is born. That makes me smile.

So the next mud puddle, Goddess is lapping and focused when I stomp my feet in it and splash her. She jumps to the moon and back. I laugh as much as I’ve laughed in a long time. A happy heartfelt laugh! Which brought tears to me eyes.

And I said of prayer of thanksgiving in February.

For mud puddles.

Where life and love are conceived.