Run for Joy

This is an excerpt from the weekly News-Loveletter. If you would like it sent to your inbox directly (with all the other juicy bits, including a mini joy practice), you can add yourself to my mailing list here.

Want to know why I jog once a week? Several years ago, I accidentally discovered I could jog a mile and not hate it while doing laps with a kid who liked to run at school. And not hating it was amazing.

That proved to be an important discovery, because when a mystery ailment stopped me in my tracks in 2019, I laid in bed unable to move without excruciating pain and decided to dream of jogging. Not sleep dream … day dream. I primed for it, to be exact. (This is now a practice in the Core Alignment with Joy series.) I imagined myself running down the path pictured above, feeling footfall after footfall on the soft bark trail. I imagined the air being damp and cool, the creek swirling below me, and the Jays shouting their morning hellos. I “ran,” laying prone in my bed, for 25+ minutes daily. I imagined this meticulously, and if I lost focus on how the jog felt, I would go back to the beginning of the path in my mind and start again.

So no wonder I drag my behind out to the trail now, even when I’m jonesing for bed at the crack of dawn. No wonder I insist on stepping into the health and wholeness I’d only dreamt of before. I had chosen to picture running and rock climbing in my imagination not because I loved them, but because if I could do those things, I could do anything.

Now I run for joy as a celebration of the inner joy I created when I perceived so little in my external world to be happy about. This joy-path is especially precious, because now I know that joy is for everyone, no matter how down and out.

Bouncing along, I see my friend Nicholas whose sleeping bag is spread across the bench behind him. He shouts angrily at the trees, waving an arm for emphasis. “Hello, Nicholas!” I call, full of joy. His head snaps around as he sees me. “Hello, Kristin!” he calls, beaming a beautiful smile. My friend nods three times, grinning widely as I pass. Checking over my shoulder, I see he’s returned to addressing the ether with frustration again. I plan to loop past him once more.

Several minutes later, I come around the bend to see Nicholas now in the middle of the path, still in conversation with someone only he can see. He’s about my size, full of wiry strength. Nicholas is angry, gesticulating wildly. “Nicholas!” I call to him as I bounce closer. He drops his hand and his face goes blank. Then a smile alights. “Kristin!”

“You are made of love!” I call out gleefully, leaping past him on the path. He jumps up and down, clapping his hands, then thrusts them into the air as if he’s crossing the finish line. I turn to jog backwards. “And so am I!” I call to him. So am I. Our eyes lock. It’s a good day.

When did you reach deep inside you to find joy and gratitude when your circumstances did not seem to call for it? And when has your experience of joy been a blessing to others?