Frosty Lanes

A valued component of my training program this fall has been a weekly interval session on the track behind the Holy Cross athletic center. In the company of a professor who lives in the neighborhood and is intent on training through the winter, and with a commanding view of the valley just south of campus, I've beheld the lovely and changing world found between 5:45 and 6:30am in central New England. We've begrudgingly traded shorts for long pants as autumn tightens its grip, shared the track with some hardy student athletes (this morning, it was the lacrosse team), and figured out how to trace ovals in the dark as the moment of sunrise slips farther away from the starting time of our workouts.

Pre-dawn light (after a track workout)
College of the Holy Cross, Worcester MA

When my track buddy and I met this morning, we found that the thick layer of frost coating lawns and leaves overnight had also spread to the track. Fortunately, the surface wasn't slick; its state-of-the-art texture still provided plenty of traction for our chilly laps, with a quaint crunching sound as our feet ground down its frosty sheen. Yet the white lane markings were significantly obscured, and I found myself following the remarkably narrow and ordered path of my own footsteps, treading the same oval many times over. Other elements of my workout routine– 800 meters fast, 400 meters of recovery, shuffling around and swigging some Gatorade in between– seemed equally fixed, a reliable groove that I've worn into my weekly training plan.

Yet I'd take almost any other workout over a session on the track. A 5-mile tempo run over a roller coaster of hills, a 15-miler along remote farm roads on a chilly winter day, an hour's worth of running on the beach at sunrise in the summer– I'd prefer any of these to my once-a-week set of circuits in lane 3 (an exact quarter-mile, I'm told) at a speed that would draw a speeding ticket in a drive-through lane at the bank. Even with the company of a runner who shares the swagger that makes a pre-dawn, outdoor run in subfreezing (just barely!) air an unquestionably wonderful idea, I can get intensely bored on the track. Yet I know that this training is a vital component of my efforts toward a particular goal– in this case, strong performances at a 20-mile race in February and the Boston Marathon in April– as well as a visceral expression of the discipline that I strive to sustain in other areas of my life.

St. Ignatius of Loyola left an incalculable legacy in establishing the Society of Jesus and infusing it with the spiritual fruits of his own rich and varied life. Among the many patterns and structures of prayer that he suggested to his companions, the Examen is one that particularly lends itself to the sort of ingrained repetition that I've been finding (and sometimes bristling against) in my track workouts. I'm not implying that I find my daily practice of the Examen to be loathsome; rather, even when it feels routine, I know that it's an undeniable good for my spiritual fitness. Repeatedly contemplating, musing upon, and discussing with God the same questions– Could I have some of your light and peace amidst the activity of my day? For what am I grateful today? How did I respond to the various calls extended to me? Could I have your forgiveness for today's faults and your guidance for tomorrow's opportunities?– keeps me in shape for the longer race of life, a series of events that can be far more entertaining than the intervals when I step aside from that flow to loop back around the moments of a given day.

As the sky brightened beautifully, and the streaks of golden and salmon hues lent a purely imaginary warmth to our chilly strides, I felt gratitude for another good track workout; not only in the sense of my speed, but also in the sense of better appreciating the gifts of repeating the same worthwhile and fulfilling practices over and over again. Yet I'll also enjoy hitting the roads again until next Tuesday, relishing views that change every minute, and running in a much larger and oddly-shaped loop.