Rise.
Take a moment and think about this tiny word. Think of all of the mental attachments and associations you have to this simple, four-lettered verb. Do you think of standing up after your favorite show, or perhaps ascending in an elevator to the top floor? Do you think of watching a balloon drift away or maybe the easy, casual manner with which the sun peeks out from beyond the horizon? Do you picture an eagle soaring above glorious peaks or of Pop-Tarts finally finishing that dreaded two-minute tan that lasts decades with that fantastic springy sound the toaster makes?
I don't know about you, but that word stirs something in my soul.
If you haven't noticed, this world is a scary place. In the last year, children and teachers were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary, a movie theater (showing a Batman movie!) in Colorado became the scene of a horror movie, and one of the most prestigious races on the planet was marred by tragedy in Boston. Hurricanes and other disasters strike at an alarming rate, devastating our sense of peace and safety. Most that come to mind are only local examples, just a small sampling of the terrifying place this world has become.
Most of us take moments like these to be grateful for what we cherish the most; family, friends, freedom...Home. The ability to decide what to wear to wherever we want, with whomever we want, whenever we want. It is an easy thing to retreat like turtles into our shells and hide from the world outside. The majority of the world does the same thing because it seems the safest and most logical thing to do.
But what would happen if we didn't?
Two years ago, my two sisters approached me with an absurd idea. They had both decided to run the inaugural Timpanogos Half Marathon in American Fork Canyon. The audacity! These two, my very flesh and blood, knew full-well what they were saying. They were proposing to a Barrington that a group of Barringtons would run 13.5 miles together...For fun! Somewhere, our collective gym teachers just fell off of a couch laughing. 'Running' is a curse word in my family and always has been more of a punishment, the idea of it being anything even close to hobby was ludicrous!
"We'll walk most of it." they said. "We will tell jokes and be stupid." they said.
"I'll cut off one of my fingers before I do that!" I said.
You need to understand something. I am not a fitness expert. I'm hardly what I consider to be 'in shape.' I had never run further than I had to unless enticed by a Cherry Coke and a burger at the end. I was not even close to what I would call a 'runner.'
So there I am, sitting in front of a computer with one of those "Are you sure you authorize this transaction?" screens mocking me. Somehow, my sisters had convinced me to sign up. It was close to midnight in early May, the race looming ahead in late July. I pushed the 'confirm' button and shook my head, thinking about how stupid that simple click of a button was.
I trained (like an amateur who has no idea how to train) and worked hard to build my strength and develop the lung capacity to run a mile. Then two. Then three. All within a week. With bad shoes. Yep, I'm an idiot. Pain and anguish followed over the next few weeks and months. My ankles swelled to the size of oranges, my calves burned with inflammation, and my tibias (shin bones) began to feel like they would crack in half if I took another step. Still, I trained.
The day of the race came. 3:30 A.M. My sisters, wife, and brother-in-law slept in my parents living room on the floor and couches to be closer to the race starting line. Sleepily, sluggishly, and sourly I got up and ate a bagel. There was no way I was going to let survive this. Still, there was nothing on this earth that would stop me from getting my medal at the end of that course.
We arrived; we ran; and I cannot even describe the excruciating pain I felt on that day. My sisters and wife ran patiently by their half-dying brother and husband, constantly reassuring and motivating. My sisters delivered on the jokes and fun, and my wife delivered a competitive edge. It is really hard to run slowly when your wife runs faster than you running sideways.
After what felt like an eternity, we took the final turn and could see the finish line. My sisters, wife, and myself grabbed each other's hands and ran with everything I had left. My body was broken and weak, but my soul soared as tears ran down my cheeks. I had finished something I thought nearly impossible; I had become a phoenix. I burned to ashes, and, with the help of my loved ones, found a way to rise from the ashes.
I got my medal, and it hangs above my laptop to this day. It hangs next to a twin from last year's Timp Half. I will run that race and hang my medals with pride every single year until my legs say no more or my feet fall off. And then I will run it again.
This brings me back to my first inquiry; what does the word 'rise' awaken in you?
What I found on that day, now almost two years ago, is not something I take lightly. That is one of the proudest moments of my life and will be until I die. I overcame something I thought impossible.
I'm not asking for applause or even a moment of 'Wow. Fatty can run.' I am simply using this as the fuel for the fire that burns in my heart right now. Let's tie this together.
I am horrified by what happened in Boston, even now as I write this. That someone would take something I have grown to love over the past two years and try to scare people away from running is unbearable to me. Those young men tried to take something I use to keep my sanity and relieve stress. Unfortunately for them, they picked the wrong population to try and discourage.
Runners are known for overcoming difficulty and persevering. You will not stop runners; rain or shine. Many go through much worse trials than I did and overcome much more difficult things. Consider this my call to any of you who consider yourselves 'runners', 'pseudo-athletes', 'couch potatoes', or any other label you want to put on yourself.
I'm sick of being a lonely turtle inside of a shell. I don't want to hide from this scary world; I want to lace up my shoes, wipe the blood from my busted lip, look it flush in the face, and say "Is that all you've got?"
The purpose of this post is not to make anyone do anything they don't want to do. I have been kicking the idea for this around in my head for a long while, and I feel like it is worth sharing. I've been talking about this word "Rise" an awful lot...There is a reason for that. It has many meanings, but one that popped up in my head is actually not a definition for the word. It's an acronym.
R.I.S.E.
Running In Spite of Evil.
You don't have to be a runner or an athlete. You just have to be annoyed enough to not let some disturbed individuals try and take the freedom of thousands/millions away by scaring us. If you want to run, RISE. If you want to walk, RISE. If you want to do nothing more than feel like you have changed some miniscule thing in your life, RISE.
There is nothing stopping you but excuses.
Any who wish to RISE with me on July 27th, come run the Timpanogos Half. I would love to see you and share stories with you. If not, that's fine too. If I am the only one that shows up on that morning, I will RISE. I will get my third medal, and I will cherish it as much as the other two.
But if you wish, I would love to RISE with you. I would love to hear your stories of overcoming adversity, sickness, depression, anger, or just plain yuckiness and RISE with you. Send me your stories/thoughts at stevewbarrington@gmail.com. Let's rise above all of this evil, and take back the world that belongs to us.
We are many, but we are one.
I leave you with one last thought; a quote from one of my favorite authors Terry Goodkind.
"Your life is yours and yours alone. Rise up and live it."
Sb
