“A Lion had come to the end of his days and lay sick unto death at the mouth of his cave, gasping for breath. The animals, his subjects, came round him and drew nearer as he grew more and more helpless. When they saw him on the point of death they thought to themselves: “Now is the time to pay off old grudges.” So the Boar came up and drove at him with his tusks; then a Bull gored him with his horns; still the Lion lay helpless before them: so the Ass, feeling quite safe from danger, came up, and turning his tail to the Lion kicked up his heels into his face. “This is a double death,” growled the Lion.” (Joseph Jacobs translation according to wikipedia)

6:00 Am at the foot of Martin, the sunday run, the usual suspects…everyone felt good, well everyone but me. I had my best week of pre training- 6 runs, 3 core workouts but the downside is that by this morning I am tired and not really rarin’ to go. From jump I let them go and stay in my pace…I have lots to think about, mostly the book proposal due at the end of the week. Fog in droplets drifts past the headlamp, headlamps bob in the forest ahead. silence grows as the chatter gets further away. For awhile there is only me and my light and and breath in clouds rising into the cold morning air. Thoughts of pride, of being left behind, of having become the old man in the bunch, the old lion, once the fierce leader of the posse, now running steady but behind the young ones. And yet, still in the hunt. No wonder I think to myself, the polar bears put the old ones on the ice, or is that legend, and the old lions become jackal bait. What’s left is to keep on, to bring ‘treachery and cunning ” to bear, to slow down and get it right, to show up and in the end rely on my experience, my faith and my community. Old lions ain’t dead, they just old and it takes a little longer, but sometimes longer is better and sometimes, if longer is all you have, then it is the product of what has come before…slowing down and smelling the roses is not always a choice, sometimes it is an unexpected gift-the herd of deer and I watched each other for a few minutes and then went on our way. Fox Hollow ran empty this morning, the creek was low, the coffee fine. Another day on the trail, another few miles, Sunday morning came in on the heels of the disappearing herd. Grace is where you find it.  Lions and Pride