Anxiety, running, and Jesus’ shoes

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Just a quick early afternoon check in (I never post much on weekends).

This morning, I woke up anxious about the election. I got up early, ninety minutes before dawn, to get ready for a long training run. Frankly, I’m a worrier. I worried about how long my fiancee and I will have to wait Tuesday morning when we go to vote together. I worried about whether my ballot will be counted. I worried about other people’s ballots being counted. I worried about losing another heartbreaking election. I worried about daring to hope that “we” might win this one. I worried about how my friends and family members who are more emotionally invested in all this than I will react to victory — or defeat.

And then we went on our run. Today’s run is a route we do once a season, and without question, this one’s my favorite. It’s from Eaton Canyon Park to the top of Mt. Wilson in the San Gabriels; round-trip, it’s almost exactly 20 miles. The tough part is the climb up — 9 miles of it is a steady up-hill journey, taking you to the summit at 5800 feet. The descent is tough too — lots of “technical running” over boulders and rocks and debris left by last week’s big storm. It’s a three and a half hour round trip (with plenty of stops for refueling).

My favorite runs are always uphill. Spiritually, something in my body and my soul rejoices at the idea of “up”. Running up a mountain always strikes me as the perfect image for one’s own individual climb towards God. Today, as I ran with my friends, I found that I didn’t want to talk as much as I usually do. (Big surprise: Hugo is normally a chatterbox on long trail runs.) I wanted to breathe the mountain air (which was quite crisp as we climbed towards the mile-high marker); I wanted to hear the birds, I wanted to be alone with my heart pounding in my ears and with God. Under my breath, I muttered something I only say on very long, difficult runs: “I’m coming to see you, Lord, I’m coming to see you.” The God I worship is everywhere, not just mountaintops, but I am rarely more conscious of His presence than while going up His hills.

Sometimes, I like to imagine that Jesus is running alongside me. No, he’s not in a robe and sandals — he has all the right gear for a long outing on the trail. (I have no idea whether, like me, He wears New Balance — or Asics, Saucony, Montrail, or Nike. Actually, I’m almost positive he doesn’t wear Nike.) And He doesn’t talk much. He just keeps my pace, saying “come with me, Hugo, come with me.” Sometimes, like this morning, I feel him so acutely I have to stop and wipe my eyes because I’m tearing up from emotion. Today, he was with me for a long time.

The runner is home from the hill. The runner is ready for a nap. I still care about the election, but whether it be the endorphins, the pain, the exhaustion, or Christ on the mountain, I am far, far more at peace with whatever happens Tuesday than I was eight short hours ago. For those who know me who think I’m neurotic and high-strung: first of all, you’re right. And second of all, you should have seen me before I came to Christ and before I started trail running!

10 thoughts on “Anxiety, running, and Jesus’ shoes”

  2. Hugo, you know I don’t go in much for christian speak (mainly because I find the majority of it hypocritical and insincere). However I found what you wrote today to be just lovely. It was heartfelt and really just beautiful. Plus I love the image of Jesus in running gear, though I disagree with the Nike statement, I think it would be deliciously ironic if Jesus wore Nikes, a little nod to the greeks. Unless of course you were talking about the sweat shop issue with Nikes…anyway, really sweet post, thank you for it.

  4. This morning, I woke up anxious about the election. I got up early, ninety minutes before dawn, to get ready for a long training run. Frankly, I’m a worrier. I worried about how long my fiancee and I will have to wait Tuesday morning when we go to vote together. I worried about whether my ballot will be counted. I worried about other people’s ballots being counted. I worried about losing another heartbreaking election. I worried about daring to hope that “we” might win this one. I worried about how my friends and family members who are more emotionally invested in all this than I will react to victory — or defeat.

    Hugo, you are anxious and worried about many things. If you can learn to live in the present moment, you will be able to shed most, if not all, of this anxiety. Learn to meditate. It’s a wonderful gift to give yourself.

    My favorite runs are always uphill. Spiritually, something in my body and my soul rejoices at the idea of “up”. Running up a mountain always strikes me as the perfect image for one’s own individual climb towards God.

    That’s interesting, and fairly sentimental, but “up” and “down” cannot be applied to the world at large or to the universe. What is “up” to you will not be “up” to someone in, say, India.

    I wanted to breathe the mountain air (which was quite crisp as we climbed towards the mile-high marker); I wanted to hear the birds, I wanted to be alone with my heart pounding in my ears and with God. Under my breath, I muttered something I only say on very long, difficult runs: “I’m coming to see you, Lord, I’m coming to see you.”

    This is a good start. Is this God separate from you?

    The God I worship is everywhere, not just mountaintops, but I am rarely more conscious of His presence than while going up His hills.

    The challenge is to be aware of the presence of that which you call “God” everywhere you are. The followers of Ignatius of Loyola call that aspect of spirituality “finding God in all things.” They would deny that their spiritual practice is a species of pantheism, but I’m not sure I believe that. In any event, being aware of “God” in all times and places is probably our ultimate consciousness.

    Sometimes, I like to imagine that Jesus is running alongside me. No, he’s not in a robe and sandals — he has all the right gear for a long outing on the trail. (I have no idea whether, like me, He wears New Balance — or Asics, Saucony, Montrail, or Nike. Actually, I’m almost positive he doesn’t wear Nike.) And He doesn’t talk much. He just keeps my pace, saying “come with me, Hugo, come with me.”

    When Jesus runs with you, are there two runners or one?

    Peace.

    Jeff JP

  5. Ouch. That’ll teach ME to think twice before posting a personal, uplifting blurb out there on the big bad blogosphere. I was all caught up on the exuberance until this last hyperanalytical comment brought me down with a thump. The author is insightful but needs to loosen up a little. :P Great post.

  6. As an afterthought…Hugo, wouldn’t you be a lot less anxious and neurotic if you cut back on the diet Coke a bit? ;)

  7. sidenote and offtopic, damn. Its gotten to me and rubbed off on me! Whenever in class hugo always counts down for when a certain, important, paper is due (i.e. midterm and etc). Hugo would start off the class asking if anyone has started/picked their topic, rought draft, finalized it–and the lucky few–who has actually finished, then he would so nicely remind us how many more days or hours (sometimes both) till its due. So recently i caught myself doing this as well.

    its witchcraft!

    at any rate, i counted down to a big moment in my life…first it was the days, then it was the hours then it was the minutes… it was agonzing at some point… but a sigh of relief i must say when the time came!

    all is well.

  8. wait… strike that… i take it back… its not witchcraft, its worse than witchcraft… its PEER PRESSURE!!

    *wails*

  10. Anonymous said:

    Whenever in class hugo always counts down for when a certain, important, paper is due (i.e. midterm and etc). Hugo would start off the class asking if anyone has started/picked their topic, rought draft, finalized it–and the lucky few–who has actually finished, then he would so nicely remind us how many more days or hours (sometimes both) till its due.

    I found this to be the most irksome thing in Hugo’s class, as if we weren’t under enough stress already? The subject matter of his women’s study was stressful enough! This always prompted much heavy sighing and eye rolling on my part. Sorry for the jab Hugo :)