My old body knows when I fail to exercise.
My body talks to me, “Bill, its been ten days since you have been for a run. What’s wrong with you?
I respond, “I’ve been busy. Life gets in the way.”
My body counters, “No doubt. That’s an easy excuse. I don’t like excuses. Go for a run. Now. Not tomorrow. Now. Go!”
On the morning of Friday, November 14, I went for that run.
I have a route that runs a neighborhood 5K course in reverse. The distance might be a bit more than a 5K, but I’m usually back at the house in 35 or 36 minutes.
This morning, I was inspired by our next door neighbor, Al Lockerman. As I was heading out to open up Trinity, Al was leaving for his morning run.
Al is a big guy. Yet, he runs like fast moving freight train. He goes all out on his runs. I admire his stamina.
When I return from opening up Trinity, I ready myself for my run. At the end of the driveway, I encounter Al again. With a cup of coffee in hand, Al is returning from walking their dog, Bambi.
I tell Al he inspired me to go for a run. He commented about the temperature. It is hovering at 33 degrees. That is about his limit with enduring cold weather runs.
Old man that I am, I have dressed in light layers for this run. That includes some worn knitted gloves and a stocking cap.
Al hopes I have a good run, and with that I’m off.
I note frost on the windshields of cars. This is the first real frost of the season.
Heading down Stuart Hall Road hill, at the intersection of Baldwin Road, the county is in the process of repaving.
The company doing the work has a massive asphalt eating machine. This contraption is called a cold milling machine or cold planer. The steel carbide tipped teeth of the milling machine peels back the top layer of the asphalt.
A good thing about the milling process is that the old asphalt surface is recycled. That planing of the top layer in some places reveals the foundation of the road— our pale orange Piedmont clay.
As I head up the hill, I turn left on to the front driveway at Trinity. On the front lawn, the pumpkins are gone. We conduct this annual sale to raise money for our youth group.
I admire the people who purchase our pumpkins. They are what I call heart buyers. These consumers could easily buy their pumpkins at a big box store at a much lower price.
At the bridge over the creek on Rock Creek Road, I wish I had a camera with me. Floating on the still creek surface is a pretty pattern of colorful fallen leaves. Also perfectly captured on that mirrored tranquil surface is blue sky with scattered clouds.
With the milling work on Baldwin, the road surface is uneven. The footing can be tricky, but I’m watching where my feet are taking me.
Occasionally, I see leftover signs from the November 4 election. I’m sure the mute button on the remote control for our television is thankful that campaign ads have stopped running.
The nonstop pace of those ads have now been replaced by incessant ads for Christmas. Of course, the big box retailers started telling me it was Christmas in September.
As I chug along, some front lawns still have Halloween decor. Others have rapidly transitioned to their Christmas theme.
Skeletons dominated many Halloween displays this year. I wonder if there will be a new big selling hero for Christmas on lawns this season?
Thankfully, I can block out those commercialized distractions with the brilliance of leaf colors along the way. The last few days, the trees seemed to have hit their peak.
At the corner of Horsepen and Devon, I come upon four young fathers who have finished up monitoring their sons and daughters at the bus stop.
I interrupt their discussion by gently shouting out, “Let me know when you guys figure it out.”
They laugh, and one of them replies, “We’ll be here a long time.”
I chuckle and keep trudging toward Westham Parkway.
My mind keeps reminding me this is November.
I know you know this is November.
However, just in case you haven’t noticed— when we hit November, the pace of the year accelerates.
That acceleration is like a pilot of a jet fighter plane hitting the afterburners. We are thrust, blasted, and hurled into a supersonic march.
From now until December 31, we are in blinding blitz. The G forces of the season pull, contort, and rush every fiber of our bodies.
Seasonal to do lists rush us. Retailers rush us to early Black Friday sales. Our overbooked calendars rush us to holiday events. And perhaps the most demanding, the pursuit of seasonal perfection rushes us.
We are overly consumed by this pursuit of seasonal perfection. And while we can deny the seasonal pursuit of perfection, truthfully, that relentless pursuit is our downfall.
In all of the hustle and bustle, I wonder if that pace results in an increase of pacemaker surgeries related to how this seasonal rush impacts our hearts?
At the stop sign on the east end of Rock Creek Road, I’m about to turn left on to Sweetbriar Road. That final straight stretch on Sweetbriar will bring me back to where I started.
In the whirlwind pace of November into December, I wonder how this season might be different if my human layers were stripped back and revealed by a human cold milling machine?
What would that human cold milling machine find in me?
Part of me thinks it would reveal that I need the first two words from Psalm 46:10: “Be still.”
With the reminding roar of November that zooms us into December’s blitzing sprint, at some point your body’s internal voice will remind you to “be still.”
Don’t ignore that voice.
Listen.
Take the time and “be still.”
might be baloney 