Running to Ixtlan

Still off work, I went for a run this morning. At first it was a healthy jog, maybe 3-4 miles depending on how I felt. My pace was quick, and I was cruising along, so I decided to keep a harder pace for myself and see fast I'd run 2.0 miles. My 8th grade son just started Cross Country (XC) and at that age they run 2.0 miles, rather than 5k (3.2 miles). I've been working with him a bit over the summer, and he seems to enjoy it and be in decent running condition. But his times felt slow to me - he was mid-pack and doing fine, but I was comparing 2.0 times versus my mile times or XC times in High School. Not a fair comparison. So I ran today and logged 8:40 and 8:30 splits for 17:10. My 13 year old son ran 15:32 yesterday in his 3rd race ever. That little twig is faster than I thought! But I'll keep working on him, because he just needs a little experience now; he's got the talen. And for me, now I have a personal goal.

Anyway.... The reason why I sat down to write this today wasn't the babble above, proving how 30 years of abusing your body doesn't help your running pace!

 

While jogging along the path, I noticed something. This is a mostly paved walking path, 0.8 miles long. Parts of it is boardwalk type planks over wetlands. It's beautiful and just down the hill from my house. What I noticed was that I always run on the left side of the path. When someone approaches the other direction (today I crossed another runner and a young mom with a stroller) I move to the right, as expected in America. But then I find myself hugging the left shoulder again. Why?

 

"Why?" indeed. I thought on it for a couple seconds before an idea emerged and stuck, then was only further validated the more I thought about it. I couldn't even think of another reason, I got so mind-locked to this one.

Carlos Castaneda's Journey to Ixtlan: The Lessons of Don Juan was the focus. I've read this twice, and overdue for a review given my experiences the last few months. The first copy I read was misplaced, and my current copy just has a couple dog-eared pages and not my usual verbose underlining. So bear with me and forgive me for not finding the lines to quote directly.

He writes how your Death,  your Shadow, is always just over your left shoulder. How you must live your life fully and with full responsibility for your actions until you (as either a Hunter or a Warrior) feel the final tap of Death on your shoulder. And your Spirit is there to take you away to the next step on your journey. This has stuck with me since I first read this book (way too early in my mixed up path of enlightenment). I didn't grok a lot of the content back then. The second time was better. And now I find myself clicking with some parts of this book without having picked it up in at least 3 years.

Part of that lesson is in giving your full self to whatever you do. The teacher speaks of men never giving over themselves to any single task. They never fully invest. And the problem isn't just distractions or lack of will power. It's more that we're doing the wrong things. You cannot give yourself fully to your job. You are not your job. You cannot give yourself fully to any task - because that doesn't define you. It's all wrong. The only thing you can really, truly, give yourself to is Being. Being yourself. That's your job. That's it. Everything else then falls into place.

OK, I'm editorializing and expanding on Don Juan's lessons there. Even with different words and different stories, it all comes back to mindfulness and present moment awareness. Be Love. Be Here Now.

And make your Death jog in the grass