The Way of the Cross

Saturday I ran the Rugged Maniac, one of the endless "adventure races" cropping up around the country where participants pay a premium to crawl through mud for "free" beer. Or at least that's kind of how it seemed on race day. Having never done an adventure race, and wanting a trial run under my belt before the Warrior Dash next month, I was pretty much ready for whatever. Oh, except a broken toe. Coming down from rock climbing with the boys last week at Camp W left me with bruising and buddy tape and a little bit of apprehension, but I was going to go for it anyways. Don't worry, on the second of 25 obstacles, I kicked a rock and went down, mimicking the original injury and sending shooting pains down my foot. But maniacs press on.

Muddy water can't stop me. Broken toe can't stop me.

The group that I was supposed to be running with, a motley crew of South Campus nurses and SO's, was, let's just say a lot less into physical activity than I was. I pretty quickly left them in the mud by that second disastrous obstacle and found myself running alone. Throughout the race, I lamented that I had no cheering section, no partner in misery/triumph, no one to balance me as I nearly ate it on those narrow beams (but I did have a guy high-five me at the end for my last-minute save). I thought how much better the Warrior Dash with the wombmate would be, and how I even wanted to encourage random strangers as they walked hunched-over, knowing how important it is to feel that support.

Blame it on spending two weeks this month at Camp W, where everything is a metaphor for the Christian Life, but as I was praying the Stations yesterday in the dry, clean comfort of my living room, I thought back to the course as I pictured Jesus walking Calvary on His own. Yes, he met the women of Jerusalem, and His Mother, and reluctant Simon, much as I occasionally struck up conversation while in line for obstacles, but the walk, the burden, the suffering, was borne alone. How much would He have given for a companion to whisper encouraging words, or just to share the journey! Fr. Gaitley, based on the revelations to St. Faustina, talks about offering to Jesus our presence at the cross, loving Him and being with Him in His suffering. And now I have a concrete experience of the value of this. Our God who transcends time was also fully human, and ached for a friend for the journey just as much as we do.

I don't really have a metaphor for the muddy water, or the fire pits, or the free beer. Sorry.

Fire pit--check!