The Pleasing Insanity of Routine
by , 02-01-2010 at 04:24 PM (1660 Views)
Yesterday the air temperature was -15f (-26c). It was the kind of cold that numbs your fingers on contact. It hurts to breathe.
But it was a running day: 4 miles round trip (6.4km). Two down and two back. I equipped myself:
Legs
insulated long underwear -->wind pants
Torso
insulated shirt --> tee shirt --> sweatshirt-->windbreaker
Face & Hands
Wool hat
ski gloves
I told my wife and kids that I'd be back in half an hour. . . . .and out the door I went.
Within seconds, my exposed face (nose and cheeks) tightened, and then settled on a warm, but numb feeling.
My legs moved quickly. I could feel the joy of pace and movement through the cold. My whole body turned into a machine following obediently to a rut of memory and practice.
There were no clouds in the sky. The sun shone brightly on the thick layer snow all around me. I thought "powdered diamonds. . . . powdered diamonds everywhere."
It didn't take long for my brow to begin to sweat. A bead rolled down my forehead, settled in my eyelashes, and froze solid, which forced my eye to shut.
"This is crazy" I said to myself.
True, that. But there is a pleasing insanity to routine. While I may seem bound to the caged pattern of this running habit, in other ways the routine frees me to break the greater patterns of self-doubt and a slavish devotion to comfort.
Nevertheless, I was very glad to return to the warmth of hearth and home.



