I was trotting at my usual endurance pace when I heard footsteps approaching from behind. I’m seldom troubled when other runners pass me, because I’m confident in my training; but this time, I felt uneasy.
It was a young woman, and as she passed, I sensed a distinctly negative vibration from her. I felt that she was proud and competitive, and that in passing me, she imagined that she had won a victory. I marveled. I’m 62, with gray hair, and I was holding my heart rate under 70%. I sensed that she wasn’t satisfied to cultivate her own strength, but that she was eager to try to steal from others.
As I ran, I’d been thinking about Mark Allen, six-time winner of the Hawaiian Ironman Triathlon. In his inspiring book, Mark Allen’s Total Triathlete, he says that an athlete needs to stay centered in “his own power,” and not let others steal it.
As the woman pulled way, I put my attention strongly at the spiritual eye, the physical center of mental focus and will power. When she passed, I had turned toward her, open to a friendly exchange, but she had motored by, her head down, her face blank.
I turned onto Chamise Trail and ascended the sunny dirt road, intent on keeping my attention riveted so that no one could “steal my power.” If I met another runner, I would be stolid, impervious, stoic, a statue. And, sure enough, in the distance at the top of the hill, there she was, coming back toward me.
At this point, my eyes were nearly closed with the effort of keeping my attention focused. I was barely aware of her, and I didn’t pay her the slightest attention. Again, I sensed a desire in her to take a bite out of other people’s energy.
The thought of her attitude lingered unpleasantly – it was an unclean, gnawing image that I wanted to defend myself against. I had allowed her to get under my skin.
Whether I’d been ripped-off for joy wasn’t the issue; in fact, I wasn’t feeling any joy. My self-protective pose was too rigid, too stoic, too macho and self-involved. My thoughts were all on her, as I held her at arm’s length mentally as something to defend myself against.
I dropped back down to Rogue Valley and turned toward the farm. By now, I knew what I must do. I would have to pray for her. It was the only possible answer: to love heroically.
I began repeating a prayer, over and over, that God give her all the blessings at His disposal: health and high energy for her body, love and devotion for her heart, strength and divinely inspired volition for her will, concentration, wisdom, and cheerfulness for her mind, and happiness and divine bliss for her soul.
At first, I was grinding out the prayers mechanically; certainly, I didn’t actually feel any of those things. But after a while, I noticed that I was becoming subtly aligned with the inner feeling of the blessing. The prayer was gradually opening a flow of love inside me, and it was very healing. Soon, I was running easily and lightly, my mind focused, calm, and sweet, and I felt God’s approval. It was perfect running, and it came by doing the right thing first, going directly to the source and running to please God. Gone were grim thoughts of “protecting my power.” My inner awareness was cleansed of negative influences by a bubbling stream of grace.
I stopped praying for that woman; now I was chanting a prayer for anyone and everyone, “Bless that soul! Bless that soul!” And I knew that in this confident kindness, this flow of blessing, I had all the power and protection I would ever need. It was very homespun, plainspoken, earthy and lovely.
I realized afresh, “This is my method; nothing else comes close – not Happy Heart running, not moments of deep concentration, not the times when the body runs effortlessly.” The love that I was feeling had power in it. I no longer needed to “protect my power.”
