Marathon? Perhaps.

At 5:30 this morning i was awoken by Jeff Master Runner to go for an early morning run through the nearby Bosnian hills. So, with crusty eyes and a sluggish step I rolled out of bed, slipped on my shirt, and proceeded to dig through my bag, searching for a pair of running friendly gym shorts. And when I say "runner friendly," I mean a comfortable, cheerily brisk pair of shorts that are cut well above the knee to pleasantly maximize air flow =] And yesterday when I told Jeff that I'd gladly wake up and go running with him, I was positive that I had packed just the perfect pair in my travel bag. But, as I pulled one article of clothing after another out of my backpack, I soon became worrisome that I had mistakenly shoved them in my main suitcase- the one with all my other clothes. (I suppose that's what I get for packing just 30 minutes before I left for the airport) And as it turns out, that's exactly what I had done. So, as I'm standing there, debating on whether or not to cancel my run and just go back to bed, I spot my short jorts (jean-shorts) laying invitingly on the floor in an ever so creepy manner. So, I say to myself "Self, why not? They're shorts right?" WRONG! Not 2 kilometers into our run I start feeling this irksome rubbing all along the insides of my thighs...oh my! Before I knew it I had slowed down considerably in comparison to Jeff speedy pace, and tried my hardest to just focus on all the beauty that surrounded me, hoping to get lost in the excellence that is Neutral Milk Hotel (music that I was listening to at the time)- but to no prevail. I had to stop.  I had to view the damage. So I sneak down to the river, unbeknownst to Jeff, who's long gone in his world of ACDC and Green Day, and I scout out the surrounding area...and peer into my pants....ya. So, there I am, stuck with a major dilemma...do I keep running in hopes to catch back up with Jeff, or do I turn back and sulk in my terrible mistake of choosing to run in jorts. By the time I'd made up my mind, Jeff had practically decided for me, as he was already well ahead, running like a champ. So, I get back on the road and slowly start walking back towards the Summay's house, bow legged from the pain, and alone. It was my first time on my own in Bosnia, and even though Jeff had heavily assured me that I was in a safe place to be...it was still a bit nerve-racking. Wild dogs were chasing me, barking in confusion, a steady rate of small European cars were flying past me, staring me down, and I just knew I looked ridiculously out of place. I stuck out like a sore thumb. And I'm not usually one to feel just downright uncomfortable by awkward situations...but this was tense...and nothing I did, no way I shifted my walk would alleviate the pain on my inner thighs. So, I just started running again. Don't ask me why, it just seemed like the only logical thing to do...and at least I would get away from this ever so unfriendly pack of wild dogs with demon eyes and smelly flies =] (like my clever rhyming haha) The first few minutes were just as painful as the first couple kilometers, but then the irritation suddenly let up, and I was running naturally again. Praises be! As I ran I prayed. I prayed for Jeff, that he'd be able to accomplish his goal of 10 kilometers that day pain-free. I prayed for Beth, as she started her third round of chemo. I prayed that my family and friends back home would remain well- allowing them to keep focus on life's positives, and find immense joy in even the smallest of things. I let my mind slow down...to the point where I felt I became conscience of everything around me. The wind was cool and refreshing, the smell was of rock and river, the lyrics to the songs that I was listening to were laid out like pictures in front of me, the trees rustled and shook. Everything around me seemed to somehow tune in with my senses. The feeling was quite similar to the feeling I get when I french inhale from my pipe. (except it felt a lot healthier...since i was improving my lungs as opposed to destroying them) But I just let God take over. And before I knew it I was already back into town. I then turned around and kept running, back the other way...hoping to catch Jeff and finish up his run with him (which I eventually did). All in all I'd estimate that I ran about 5 kilometers...maybe a little more. But certainly more than I had envisioned me doing at the very beginning of my run...and for that I am thankful. Who know's, maybe my dad signing me up for that marathon next May wasn't such a ludicrous idea. Maybe, just maybe, these early morning runs with Jeff will readily prepare me for those grueling 26.something miles. All I know is that I'm going to take it slow, allow God to work through my patience, and wait until I get some actual running shorts before I set out again on those Bosnian hills ;D

Grace and Peace,

Kaleb