51.
Today is a run day. A trail run. One of my favorites I admit as we prepare for the off-road jaunt. If ever there was an obstacle course to test one’s ability to gracefully maneuver through constantly changing terrain, maintain a balanced equilibrium and put the proprioceptors into play, running trails might be the comparative testing finals. One key element is cadence. Finding flow, breathing with a calm and efficient rhythm, letting go. It is not so much about speed as it is about presence — as there is nothing that will slow you down faster than a misplaced foot-strike, a knock on the head from a low hanging limb or a pulled hamstring from an unexpected and sudden hill. Another key element, at least for me, lies in the attempt to forget about both the path already successfully negotiated as well as the portion yet to come. An intense, yet relaxed, focus on the flow of the present moment, stride by stride, cut after cut, in harmony with the rise and drop of every change, provides a magical opportunity to sample life’s pure organic energy. As the Zen masters quote, “One forgets the self when becoming one with the task at hand.” Losing one’s self, the loss of ego, is a powerful step along the trail of enlightenment. Or, at least another mile in the light of 20/20 hindsight.
We are pushing a hectic pace on the ten off-road miles, as I can sense s need to cool the engine, a biomechanical thermal dynamic utility now fully tasked with opening the spill gates of stored coolant to keep the parts from over-heating. The body is a miraculous machine, fully autonomous, capable beyond anything we currently accept or understand. I stop at a clearing to reach for my water bottle and count the seconds before I am caught by my teammates. They seem relieved to see that I have allowed this brief forest luxury. We wait, hydrate and rest as the last of the team arrives at the ad hoc aid station.
As a way of illustrating the glaringly obvious I mention the experiences one might feel in the tractor-beam pull of this wonderful run, where we are as close to animal-like as we might ever get. “Sometimes I feel like a wolf, sometimes like a big cat. But most times I am just happy to feel like a fully alive and empowered me.” I try hoping for approval and reciprocality.
“Most times I just feel like shit, slow, clumsy, lost.” Drysdale says. He has officially joined our unit, partially upon my request, and has admitted that the physical readiness training is the part of his game needing the most attention.
“All attitude, my friend, one day you will glide through this course like a jaguar chasing dinner.” I comment.
A corpus of harrumphs signals the end of the break and we are back at it before even a snack is enjoyed, let alone dinner.
We are close to the completion of the run when I am drawn to an exercise I find useful. It is what I call a file check. I mentally pull the files of everyone on the team to review their status. I am running, cautiously, on auto-pilot as I update.
Cap has made considerable progress with his concussion protocol. The specialists expect a full recovery in, perhaps, as little as three months. Saunders is undergoing intense physical therapy for her hip replacement. She now sports titanium where a bone ball and socket joint once was. As much as it pains me to admit, this incredible new technology might be a slight improvement over the original. Calahan and Bromden are gaining strength and confidence daily, both enrolled in advanced SWAT training. TOM, Julie and the staff at HQ are operating at an inspiring level of efficiency and proficiency.
We must be doing something right, I think, as our services for emergency counter insurgency infiltration has not been required in almost a month. 'Gee, thirty days of peace in this geo-political, non-stop war zone, did somebody declare a global cease fire?' I am distracted, and slightly ashamed, by my sarcasm as another, equally negative, thought pops up.
The Davis file.
No comments:
Post a Comment