On this absolutely gorgeous fall day I set out for an adventure about 10:15 this morning. My youngest son runs Cross Country, and his league meet was at Rim Rock Farms--KU's Cross Country course, north of Lawrence. Armed with Google Maps and Google Navigation, I headed out. I opted to find a route that avoided the toll roads, and soon I was driving in the country. There's something about driving on a road in the country that I find very relaxing and rejuvenating; I think part of it is that I'm a city girl. My whole life I've lived in the city, either in a more urban or suburban setting. I absolutely love the city, but I find a country drive to be relaxing for several reasons. First, there's the view. One of the worst things about city living is that your perspective is always so small--you just can't see very far, because trees, houses and buildings block your view. But the vistas in the country are quite another thing. The Cross Country course I went to today is about an hour from my house, and soon I could see for miles out in the open country. For those of you not from Kansas, you might suppose I saw flat wasteland everywhere--but that's not what I saw. I saw farmland--fields of corn (mostly dried up, by the way) and other grains, which my dad, who worked for a grain country could tell you what they were. And framing all those lovely fields were trees--lovely deciduous trees with leaves of green and gold, with splashes of red every once in awhile. I don't think we are at the peak of our fall color, but the trees framed the fields and the color painted the rolling hills like a patchwork quilt. I think one thing I like about driving in the country is the road itself--you can actually see the scenery, because, as Sally says in the movie Cars, the road bends with what's around it. It's like you are a part of the scenery, not simply hurrying past it.
I drove through a very quaint small town--with some storefronts that I'm sure were over a hundred years old. I've always loved small towns, because both sets of my grandparents were from small towns. There's such pride in a little town--everything seems to be done with extra care, and all those little touches are so endearing to me as I pass by. I especially love driving through the business section of a small town--when I was about 12, I could walk to town when I visited my dad's mother. It was such a thrill, for that freedom did not exist in the city, and I especially loved the dime store (Ben Franklin), which had all sorts of interesting things to look at. I know that not all small towns are as quaint and special, but I thought of my grandparents and happy memories as I drove through this little town on my adventure.
The adventure was ahead of me, in terms of driving. To get to Rim Rock Fields, you have to go off the paved road, and on to a dirt road, for about four miles. Now, mind you, I was driving my PT Cruiser. It's a great little car, but really not designed for off-roading adventures. There was at least one hill that I was concerned about my little car scaling, but it puttered along perfectly. (It does really well in the snow, too.) I finally arrived at the course site, and, like we parents of Cross Country runners usually do, I created my own parking spot in the grass. (By now, I'm thinking my PT Cruiser should have SUV status). I parked, and headed off to watch the race.
If I were a runner (which, thanks to asthma, allergies, and lack of athleticism, I am not), I would have called today a perfect day for running. It was a bit on the cool side, but the sun was shining, and I was perfectly warm in my hoodie I bought from the Cross Country spirit wear sales. If you've never seen a Cross Country race at the start, it's not like any other race. There are about 150-200 runners in each race, and they all line up at the starting line at once. When the race starts, the whole pack sets off. It really is a sight to see. You just hope no one falls down at the beginning, because those spikes they wear are really sharp! By the end of the race, the racers are more in a line, like a traditional race. The best part of watching a Cross Country race (besides cheering for your son) is that everyone cheers for all the runners--even the slowest one at the end gets a cheer, because everyone knows how hard it is to run 3.1 miles--or a 5K. Runners don't just celebrate winning the race, they celebrate their PRs (personal records). My son beat his PR by a minute and 15 seconds! It's so great that in this world that is so competitive that we can celebrate personal achievements, even if they don't translate into a shiny medal. :) I must say that my son was easy to spot; he purchased neon orange spikes to race in, and had on a grey headband. I was really grateful, as the uniforms they wear make it really hard to pick out one runner from the 70 on his team.
As I drove home, I reflected on my adventure. First of all, I thought about how the Bible compares life to a race. Not all of the courses my son runs on are as nice as Rim Rock--some have holes and other pitfalls, and sometimes the weather is not as nice. Sometimes he's run and tweaked his ankle--or some other part of his body. The key, of course, is to endure. I'm at a point where I need that in my life, too. I also thought a lot about the GPS and Google Navigation on my phone; they are such a blessing to me, because I absolutely cannot read a map. It made me think about how I need the Holy Spirit's guidance. Much like the voice on Google Navigation, the Holy Spirit says calmly to turn certain ways. And the cool thing is that is works even if I take a detour; when I first set out this morning, my GPS said to turn left. I, however, knew the roads better, so I turned right. The GPS re-calibrated and then went on to give me directions. The Holy Spirit does this as well--but it never needs to recalibrate! I have made some wrong turns in my life, but God has always been there, guiding, whispering (sometimes hitting me over the head with a two-by-four), and getting me back on track. Sometimes it's hard to listen, though--the noise in my car can easily drown out my GPS, and sometimes the busyness of life drowns out God's words to me as well. And, sometimes, I'm like my son after the race; Evan was so tired after his race that he fell asleep on the way home. I get so tired sometimes that it gets really hard to hear what God has to say, too. But God still gets me home, in spite of my shortcomings, and lets me have an adventure besides! How cool is that?
