Restorative Practices

I started my two week taper on Sunday, and, like any other time I've scaled back my running before a race, I want to go farther and faster each time I run.  I guess that's the purpose of the taper.  Right before this period I was getting tired, my legs were always sore and all I could think about was my next run... I was looking forward to getting the dang thing over with.

Of course, now, I want to run... a lot.  I go on these short, easy 4-5 mile runs and think, "Hey!  I could run an ultra!"  Don't worry, that thought usually goes away at about mile 23, when the infamous death march begins.  This is the mile in any marathon in which the race director, unbeknownst to the spectators and the runners, puts large pits of tar that the runners suddenly have to run through.  I don't know why they do this, but it must have been a part of the original marathon and Phidippides must have just toughed it out.  This is the point where those of us juiced from the taper usually stop thinking we're super human and start thinking about that last 5K we still have to run.

In any case, I'm thinking more about the purpose of the taper and how it relates to all of us who are trying live healthier and happier lives.  The purpose of the taper is restorative.  It gives the body, which has been pounded and abused for several months a chance to repair and to heal.  The body, which has become accustomed to the abuse has grown significantly stronger, but to realize its full potential, it needs to rest and to heal.  By race day, the runner feels juiced up, ready for just about anything, fully recovered from all the work, fully healed and restored.  This is essential to complete such a feat as the 26.2 miles required in a marathon.

This relates to anyone, runner or not.  This evening, after playing with me for a couple of hours, my 4 year old requested an early bath.  While he was in the bath, I had the rare opportunity to drift over to my guitar and just start playing, for no one in particular, with no real direction or reason, but just to play.  I played old songs I used to play in high school and songs I just recently learned.  I played extra long solos and free-style craziness.  I sang loudly, softly, and in any way I felt like.  My son was even drawn from his bath into the living room.  He dried and dressed himself then started going crazy dancing and running around for the fast, loud songs, and eventually drifted to the keyboard.  He decided it was time to jam.  He plucked around on the keyboard, I played and sang, and my fingers just had some fun.  He eventually just let me play while he played with his cars.  It felt good.

We need that time alone, or with people, where we can just play.  For no particular reason, but to play.  Do something that you just love to do, for no one.  For no reason, to just lay it out there.

My favorite Christmas memory was a year when the power was out from an ice storm.  My cousins, aunt and uncle were visiting.  It was just my family and me, some food and wine, by candlelight.  I pulled out my dad's old guitar and some old songbooks.  What a nice, peaceful memory it brings when I picture all of us, at the top of our lungs, for no one in particular, for no real reason, just belting out House of the Rising Sun.  It felt like we did it for hours.

These are the restorative practices we need.  Just some time alone or with others to just let it all go.  Spend time in prayer with God, not because it's some discipline we follow, but just because.  Spend some time painting, because you want to.  Sing, color, write, lay out on your lawn, sit on your deck, but just be.  I think this is one of the most important things we can do so that we can face the marathons we have to face in life.  Don't wait for the time to come, make the time happen.

God Bless!