A close shave?

 

Recently when I looked at my razor I saw this. 

What was once sharp and gleaming, after only a few weeks of daily use, is blunt and misshapen. Hard steel deformed and dulled by soft skin and hair, I must admit I was slightly surprised.

It is thought that diamonds, 90 miles underground and at huge temperatures take between 1 and 3 billion years to form. We know that trickles of water over a passage of extended time create valleys and ravines, but we are talking millions of years. We know that the tread on tyres have limits but these range in the thousands of miles before they are worn beyond use. Who would have thought that the daily application of steel against relatively soft skin would bring this change in a few weeks?

As the Cornerstone runners prepare for the Great West Run the most important we can do is to go out running regularly, getting our bodies used to the process so when the big day comes we each (hopefully) will get around the 13.1 miles. Yet there are also small things, in preparation, that can make a big difference: laces tied a fraction too tight can cause discomfort as feet swell, too loose and blisters are a danger. A couple of jelly beans at ten miles can make all the difference when energy starts to dissipate. Encouraging words from fellow runners can spur you on; tiny things making huge differences.

On the Facebook group ‘Belonging to Cranbrook’ (which now is approaching its 500^th member) there have been some of those tiny acts of kindness: someone wanted some bubble wrap, another asked to borrow a few hairclips, advice about gardening, transport, shopping, take aways – all given and taken. Tiny things that not only make a difference to the recipient but also those who observe and are glad they are part of this community.

So for my running I will keep trying to make tiny improvements, for my razor – I changed the blade. For my spirit – I was lifted as I saw and continue to see a community caring and looking out to offer those tiny acts of kindness. For this community – I hope that we will continue to do our part; that we may never become dulled to the small differences that each of us might be able to make.

Anyone for Movember?

Marmite - love it or hate it

I always find it interesting how words enter modern usage and start to become a metaphor for something else. Actually we banned the word 'hate' in out house when the children were little along with 'nice' for similar reasons, some words just come too easy and no longer relay their real meaning.

Back to Marmite, as a kid I used to love it and although we don't have any in our cupboard at the moment I could still be persuaded to smear a piece of warm buttered toast with it and devour. I love it. Nowadays to say something 'is like Marmite' is a way of saying that it polarises, dividing opinion, bringing about an extreme division with no middle ground- you either love it or hate it.

Today as I ran for 9 miles with 5 others from the running group I hated loathed it. Every step of the last four miles was agonising and I so wanted to stop and start walking, the reason I kept running was twofold: firstly I had decided to run nine miles, for me running is a mental discipline as much as anything else. One of the writers of the New Testament talks of 'running the race with perseverance', the idea is that when you set your mind to something your body follows, that might even be a definition of discipline! I like this idea, not only in my spiritual life but also in my work, relationships and of course running. This idea of persevering gives purpose and builds stamina, but, as I found this morning, these benefits do not come cheap - running is hard, at least for me, and it was particularly hard today. That was the first reason I kept going, the second was the encouragement of those who ran with me, I have mentioned this before but it is important. An encouraging word goes a long way and my fellow runners all encouraged me this morning. They too had set out to run and together we did what we said we were going to do. Maybe it is this side of running that keeps me going, the discipline and the companionship, not to mention the feeling of well-being and fitness benefits.

I think it is fair to say that some of my most cherished memories have connections with running, the marathon last year, the trek across Dartmoor with Sharon and now belonging to Cornerstone Runners Cranbrook. It is something that I find so hard, often overwhelmingly so sometimes, yet it is also something I find something transcendent, inexplicable and eminently worthwhile.

The funny thing is that I have realised that I actually hate loathe and love running at the same time; something of a paradox and, in that respect, unlike Marmite - but true nonetheless.

Stones in my shoes

I am pretty well known for stopping every couple of miles when I am out running, whipping of a shoe, shaking it until the offending article falls out and then carrying on – after replacing the shoe! Hardly any other runners seem to do this, so I started wondering, is it that no stones get in their shoes or that they don’t notice them, or even put up with them?

This morning during the seven mile run, in glorious sunshine, two of those offending articles found their way into my shoe (2 occasions both the right foot), the first time I did my usual, the second I let it stay there trying to hold it in place in a way that caused the least discomfort. I am really not sure which is best.

I have been a bit stymied in my thinking over the last couple of weeks since Margaret Thatcher’s death. I was a child in the Thatcher era, I remember the parody of Spitting image, I remember the Specials’ singing ‘Ghost Town, I remember ‘Loads of money’, Yuppies and redundancies, Ben Elton and the Young ones. I remember painting a picture in school of all of the rubbish piled up during the bin men strike; I also remember my dad getting made redundant time after time. I had a happy childhood but some of those hardships just seemed so unnecessary, so unfair. My dad was hard working and he did literally get on his bike to find work but sometimes the work just wasn’t there.

If I admire Margaret Thatcher for anything it would be for her leadership and her strength of mind; I found her ideology appalling, if only she could have stopped for a moment and looked around at some of the harm her policies were causing. Surely at some stage there was a sharp pain, in her conscience (or in my analogy her foot) that would/should have caused her to stop for a moment.

Then of course there was all the comment from last week, the rhetoric and the vitriol delighting and partying in her death. I too wished that some of those had felt a sharp stone causing them to pause before continuing. I am really not sure how celebrating the death of another person can really bring any good even if we fundamentally disagree with that person.

So my ‘sharp stones’ have been allowing me to pause for thought this week. In many ways I wonder if  this is what prayer is, a time to pause, check where we are and allow the lack of momentum and the silence to be a place to take stock, listen to our heartbeat, the voice of others or the voice of God. Maybe I have not been stymied, but waiting, pausing. Often pain is there for a reason, to get us to stop, check where we are and listen before setting off again.

What is ironic is that Margaret Thatcher’s individualism actually encourages the free speech that brought much of the venom of last week. Of course it is not just speech that is free: silence, pausing, waiting, reflecting and praying is too. Sometimes it is good to be stymied., at least for a while.

The stones in my running shoes will never feel quite the same again.