Every runner, I suppose, has a favorite route – a “rave run,” as Runner’s World magazine describes it – a trail, a path, even a network of streets – that is a joy to tackle, or sometimes a comfort when feeling overwhelmed. Yesterday, I had the sheer delight to run an 11-mile loop in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, a familiar and absolute-favorite route of mine that even thinking about energizes me. The loop meanders through an historic area called Cades Cove, the remains of an early settlement in the mountains comprised of 200-year-old log cabins, a mill along a creek, and dirt paths which were once their only connection to civilization. The valley is sprinkled with scenic wooden churches that look like they were painted into the landscape, places of worship which were once the center of community life. The graveyards beside them relate the largely untold stories of gracious men, brave women, and small children lost to sickness, the legends and graves tragically portraying the reality of how hard life was in that idyllic setting.
I love to run “the cove,” as Kat and I call it. Its rolling terrain is the center aisle through a majestic sanctuary of trees, rivaling the most elaborate Gothic cathedrals and whose branches are lifted in utter praise to their Creator. Sunlight cuts through the dense green and reminds me that no one in the deepest darkness is beyond the love of God.
I am most often running by myself, and yet never alone. The valley and hills are bursting with wildlife – families of deer totally oblivious to being watched, wild turkeys gathered together like church ladies for a potluck in a field, and almost always a mama bear and her cubs, sniffing out acorns and berries, and in the fall, scampering in the branches of ancient cherry trees like young boys who have been released from the confines of school. People in bumper-stickered minivans, SUV’s packed with gawking city folk, and the beds of small trucks overflowing with t-shirted adolescents creep along this ribbon of road, occasionally tying up traffic for a “did you see that?” but more often, missing what lingers shyly through the trees, that which only can be seen on foot. I often see the large brown eyes of deer following me as I pass, sometimes accompanied by their tiny, wobbly newly-born youngsters. And on special occasions, a large magnificent buck standing, like he had just won an Academy Award, his antlers covered in soft velvet.
I run in awe of what rises up around me on this loop. There is one long winding hill where every time I reach the top I gasp, not because I am out of breath, but for the profound beauty of the valley below me. Yesterday, it occurred to me as I ran, that this beautiful place is only a shadowy glimpse of what is to come when the world is restored to what God intended all along. We live in a fallen world, and as it tells us in the Bible, all of creation is affected by man’s turning away from God, indeed it groans for what was meant to be, longing for redemption.
God grants to us the amazing ability to grasp the beauty of His creation, a gentle reminder of Who He is. I see people all the time trying to capture on film what makes their hearts stand in awe.
In the aftermath of last week’s marathon, a friend asked me why I run. This is it – one run explains it all.
For you shall go out in joy,
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills before you
shall break forth into singing,
and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.
Isaiah 55.12
No comments:
Post a Comment