Yesterday I Woke up

This morning I woke up early. An acquaintance had casually told me about a marathon which would be on my street. I decided that I would like to photograph it. I planned to take only a handful of shots, no more than twenty. I knew that I would take a few more than twenty. I have photographed marathons before. So I realized that there might be a few more shots than twenty. All runners look the same especially when taken out of context and frozen for a photograph. That morning there was a quick prayer said as I picked up my camera bag and keys. That morning I walked into the coolness, the freshness of a new day thinking of the word procession, trying to develop an essay on movement in my mind. That morning I was happy to be a Christian, happy to be standing up, happy to be planning on attending the 12:10 Mass at the Cathedral. My mind was filled with all types of thoughts and images as several motorcycles moved by my building. Of course I did not automatically know what was to follow. Being awake does not always mean being alert or being aware. And so I watched the motorcycles with a little wonder, expecting a motorcade. How amazed and amused I was when I saw the first runners, moving together, four individuals, eight legs gracefully attacking the asphalt and so of course I aimed at them with my camera and tried to capture the moment. This morning I decided that I wanted a tee-shirt from the bank which was sponsoring the race. This was the true motivating factor which lead me out of my house into that most glorious and inspiring moment. Standing there I was happy to be Catholic. As the runners ran by I allowed myself to think of the Procession of Palms which easily folded into the Eucharistic Procession. As more and more faces and feet attacked the pavement around me I thought of the Procession of the Cross. Marathon running is a solitary experience, it is a contest of man against himself, man against nature, man against man. There is no ball; there is no team. It is truly an individual sport. Looking at the expressions on the faces of the runners I saw hope, enthusiasm, fear. Initially, I was standing in the middle of the street near the double line which separated the street into two lanes. Initially all of the runners remained safely, comfortably away from me within the other lane closest to the bank and the curb. Suddenly, I was trapped on the street, feet and faces were aimed directly at me. My focal points were changing. I was briefly concerned about causing a collision, I said a brief prayer to God for myself and then started praying for each runner that I saw. The runners kept appearing, moving toward me, I was crouched on the pavement near the double orange line filled with hope, filled with joy. There was so much movement, so many arms waving, arms robotically jousting the air. And there were spectators with witty, suggestive signs cheering and encouraging the runners. This was a moment of true liberation, all present were human beings with peace and hope and freedom and dignity. Sharing this moment with these complete strangers, runners and spectators allowed a deep compassion to wash over me and I forgot myself, my desires. Goodness does exist in the world if we are quiet and allow our souls to find it.