Joy in the Journey

A brisk 40-minute walk first thing in the morning -- weather and early obligations permitting -- is both a (literal and figurative) exercise in discipline and a simple, deep joy. It depends on which end of the walk you ask me.

It started out for health reasons, but I soon discovered that in order to quell the inevitable boredom, I could use the time for other purposes as well. So I began incorporating my "quiet time" into it -- some timeless prayers followed by informal conversation with God.

I have always struggled to persevere in prayer. St. Monica prayed for her son Augustine for 17 years, while I can barely pray for 17 minutes. But a daily appointment -- during which I can be assured of not drifting off -- gives me a dedicated prayer time. There's an outline in my head that I follow; I update my petitions as needed, but the basic framework remains. You might wonder if it has become rote, and the answer is, "Anything but." When you don't have to rack your brain about what to pray next, the next item on the outline appears, and you seize upon it with your whole heart and carry it to Him.

My quiet time takes slightly less than the 40 minutes needed to complete my walk. (My route is shaped like a pentagon, with four sides and then a fifth side that is divided between the beginning and the end of my walk.) Did I mention that my phone is what makes my quiet time so effective? I use it to access the classic prayers, and the outline for my own prayers is stored on it. I bring along a pair of sunglasses and earbuds. When my quiet time has concluded, I turn to one of 3 or 4 special songs that are uplifting:

• "Nether Lands," by Dan Fogelberg
• "There's Gold In Them Hills," by Rex Sexsmith and Chris Martin (of Coldplay)
• "I Am Not Okay," by Jelly Roll (a song that manages to uplift even if you're not okay)
• "To the Morning," also by Dan Fogelberg. I love to end my walk with this one because when my morning walk is all said and done, "Yes, it's going to be a day... there is really no way to say 'no' to the morning..."

Less than an hour earlier, I hated my morning walk. Why? Because on those days when it's not raining and the roads are not covered with snow and ice, and when I don't have somewhere to be first thing in the morning, my morning walk is not optional. The first thing that comes to mind when I open my eyes is the delicious thought of closing them again, snuggling back into the covers, and drifting off to sleep again. (Truthfully, the first thoughts are that I have been given another day of life by God, and my gratitude for that.) But the walk beckons, "beckon" being too kind a word -- the walk calls in a way that is imperious and stern.

So I blink my bleary eyes, check my blood sugar, brush my teeth (it feels vaguely sacrilegious to have morning breath when you commune with the Almighty), pull on my walking clothes, collect my sunglasses and earbuds and phone, find the prayers I will start out with, and head out the door. My feet and my voice (because I pray aloud) find their rhythm, and I begin another morning walk. (You know what's so wonderful about the modern era? In this era of wireless technology, you can walk along speaking out loud and no one will think you're an escapee from Bellevue!)

By the time I finish the fourth side of the pentagon and am listening to uplifting music, I am slightly out of breath, my pace having increased over the past half hour; there is a bounce in my step; and I find myself smiling. In less than an hour, I have beaten back the temptation of sloth; acted in the service of good physical health; invested precious time reflecting on the eternal, expressing both gratitude and faith and pouring out my heart for those I love and for myself; and ended with songs of beauty and hope.

It is the best of all possible notes to start the day on.

#morningwalk #exercise #prayer #upliftingmusic #catholic