I Finish?

This morning I ran in our Island’s Fourth of July 5K. I ran alone, although I was surrounded, and passed, by a thousand others. My usual running-mate, Junior, my nephew, stepped on a screw last week on the job and his foot remains way too tender to run on. I didn’t make the decision to participate until 0600 this morning. 

I have been dealing with some rather odd physical issues lately. Despite the passing grade on my INR blood test Friday, lightheartedness, dizziness, loss of balance, extreme fatigue, insomnia, anxiety are the best descriptors I can use to illustrate the malaise, depression and frustrations that accompany heart palpitations, AFib, muscle soreness, inflammation and loss of hand-eye coordination that make it a challenge to smile. Among other challenges. Last night was no exception as I fell half-asleep on the couch watching Rachael Maddow try to console the many Americans wondering why the POTUS is staging a parade instead of walking to the gallows with a black bag over his head, cuffed and shackled. I chuckle thinking that my ailments pale in comparison. Then I consider the pain he has intentionally inflicted on thousands of hard-working, innocent people, people simply trying to make better lives for themselves and their children, and I wish there was more I could do. 

And there is. 

I can stop feeling sorry for my pathetic self and get back to work. Taking the politically incorrect action (or correct depending to what side you subscribe to on civil disobedience debate) that can have enormous effect on neighbors, community, state, country and world. One kind word. One letter to the editor. One phone call to your congressman. A blog post. Marching in a protest. Making good buying decisions. Supporting those that offer choice. Standing up to bigotry, racism, hypocrisy and hate. Loving more. Loving more often. 

I am running up the final hill, a long stretch where I actually tripped and fell during a training run a few weeks ago. My heart is pounding and I am sure oxygen uptake is at minimal levels. I am thinking about the years I spent on a US Navy Support Facility, tasked with staging a parades on this day for the servicemen and women, contractors and visiting dignitaries. I think about BBQs, parties, football games, fireworks, the many floats from which I have tossed cheap schwag to kids and my place in all of this. I think about DC, DG and dogs cowering from bombs bursting in air. I consider the degree of hostility I carry up this hill for people with less respect for our fellow man than a few ruthless power-thirsty dictators I don’t need to name. I run half-mad and half-sad. I think of a sunset over Seattle, smiling at the emotional jpeg that just hit my heart like a close-up flashbulb. 

I finish. I finish? 

I realize that I haven’t even started yet. 

Happy Fourth.