The Best Of Things

What is hope?

What does it look like and how does it feel?

Where do you find hope?

I will tell you, from my little corner of the world. How I am seeing and feeling hope and where I am finding it. How I am defining it in my circumstance.

Hope looks like an early morning setting on the alarm clock to get that run in.

Hope is what you see staring back at you in the mirror at the gym after a bench press, squat, or bicep curl PR, knowing every muscle stronger translates to every mile faster.

Hope looks like new pair of running shoes. 

Hope looks like a confirmation email for a fall marathon registration.

Hope looks like mileage totals on a treadmill matching the exact distances you planned to run, not just the mile- or part of one- you managed before your body shut down.

Hope feels like singing in the shower, post-run, instead of crying.

Hope feels like the first pain-free 6 miler in several months.

Hope feels like descending two flights of stairs, and realizing that not one step was painful.

Hope feels like the sun on your face, while sweat is trickling down your neck and flying off your elbows.

Hope feels like the almost-imperceptible weight of Road ID on your wrist.

Hope is found in crosstraining that complements your running instead of replacing it. 

Hope is found in the reunion of pavement and sole/soul, your breath as it creates clouds in frigid air, the pounding heart and contracting lung, the freedom of solitude.

Hope is found in pain that is fatigue- and only fatigue.

Hope is found in the tedious hours of strength work and physical therapy that become worthwhile when your PT pronounces a tendon healthy.

Hope is found in the delightful, tangible, little reminders of reconciliation to what you love. Logging Garmin data… Freshly laundered tech shirts, hung up to dry… The bowl of fruit, granola, and Greek yogurt that will fuel you next workout... Filling an empty box in your running log spreadsheet with a number... Clicking submit on a race registration... Surveying marathon training plans… Foam rolling… Tearing the corner off a GU or HoneyStinger packet... Hearing the beep of your watch at the end of each mile.

What is hope?

It's what you have left. When you walk through the loss of your strength, allowing pain to strip you of expectations, goals and performances, Hope is the only survivor remaining to greet you on the other side. 

It births a tired and tattered courage to start afresh.  

It sees a mirage of yourself at full strength, and recognizes it as your future and not just your past.

It drops a mustard seed of faith on the long-barren soil of your dreams.

And then Hope prays for rain.