A Convocation of Souls

A Convocation of Souls

Mojo Loco Thoughts

Let’s not assign overwrought themes.  On Saturday we, a motley band of 13 runners, from disparate backgrounds and varied sources goofed our way 90K from St. Augustine Florida down the A1A coastal highway to Daytona Beach in convivial, of not occasionally riotous, leap-frog parade.

We didn’t launch a religion or frame a constitution but we may have set some sort of example of the power of community.  That being said these few I met and ran with are not the proletariat of our sport, nor are they elites of any measure.  They are a sampling of the oligarchs of a new media community, not by chance so much, but by action, direct or indirect, an unelected fraternity of sorts.

They were here because they raised their hand.  They said “I’ll do it”, and then they did.  This act of joining mimicking the driving force behind the whole shebang, the simple act of declaring oneself ready to run is enough to create community.

A defining moment for me was while I was being entertained at dinner the evening before the event.  I was asked to explain something and I paused and thought, and stated, as if it were obvious, and explained everything “I like to run”.  My companions, satisfied, agreed, “We do too”.  As much as you’d like to assign lofty purpose to the weekend at the end of the day we did it because we all just like to run.

It really IS that simple, really.

What did I get out of it?  The same thing I’ve always gotten out of the dozens of relays and races I’ve joined, the cars I’ve sat in, the transition zones I’ve lurked about.  I get a chance to pal around with the threads that make up the quilt of our community.  The interesting tapestry we weave around our core of running.  We are my type of people.  I like to be with us.  It makes me happy.  We make me feel good about myself.

I got out of it what I took into it which was an honest desire to have some fun and meet some folks who I have known but have never met.  And, in this, I was successful.  I’m so thankful that I made a decision to pack lightly for Florida.  I packed Chris the running buddy and lover of dogs but left that other intrusive and obsessive road-race mongering pontificator hanging in my running closet with my Garmin.

This was a seed well planted and well harvested.  For through the weekend I saw flourish a garden of wonderful characters and was able to relax, like man on vacation, in the glow of real people beyond pretense.

As with any social gathering there were the interesting dynamics, but free of the shackles of ego I got to watch, observe, listen and maybe love some folks who otherwise would not have enriched my stock of memories.  If a man’s value is measured by the friends he has known today I am a richer soul.

My advice to you, my friends, is to take it to the streets, to the trails, to the mountains and the vales; find some people you’d like to run with and, by God, go run with them.  Pull the physical strings taut and solidify the tapestry that binds us all.

And, yeah, I’ll be out there too.

Chris,

Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy.  Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, and “The Mid-Packer’s Guide to the Galaxy”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack.  Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com.  Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners and the Goon Squad.

Email me at cyktrussell at Gmail dot com

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