Running in cushy modern running shoes is like joining up with a mega-church. It's new, stylish, involves lots of money and modern ideas but may in the end be bad for us. Maybe it's time to ditch emergent evangelicalism and learn to run and worship as the caveman did. Maybe the new cutting edge coffee sippin Mars Hill Church isn't what we need. Maybe it's time to get down and dirty. Maybe it's time to drink lots of beer and experience the sensual pleasures of this good earth. Maybe it's time to tread lightly and with grace, to conserve energy and not waste it. Maybe the custom orthotics and preacher man are hurting us with their rigid dogmatic ways. Maybe the pain we tried to avoid and bury with layers of EVA foam was trying to tell us something we needed to hear: Stop. Heal. Grow. Love.
Let's be honest here. I have very little expectation that many will read this blog. But these days it seems there is very little besides social media like FB, Instagram, and Twitter to chronicle a history of our lives. I wonder what we've lost when all we have are pictures on platforms that are mobile and perhaps impermanent. But then again what things about being a human have ever been permanent? It's all chaff in the wind. Jesus that was deep. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. It's been a minute since I've written in this blog and in that time I've had a platelet rich injection into my left heel after overtraining had left me with a serious case of bursitis. It was I suppose a blessing in disguise that made me rethink my orientation toward training. I've never been the 100 mile a week kind of person and this injury only underlined the fact that I may never be. And now I don't want to be. I've come to realize that at least for me qu