Shells and red pebble

As I began training for the marathon, my usual routine after a long day of teaching was to head to Central Park for my midweek runs. In a noisy city like New York and in a profession where people ask questions of me most of the time, my headphone-free runs became a place of solitude and peace. (I initially started running without headphones because I lost mine, but then never looked back.) Running, though an activity, has also become a place for me, although strangely not tied to one physical location, much like home is where the heart is (as the saying goes) or the way that a church is not a building, but a people. It is a place of pilgrimage for me.

It is a place of prayer that often exists beyond words, yet involves my whole body, mind, heart, and soul.