Day 15: Hope for the Journey

A few weeks ago, I got it into my head to sign up for the Lucerne Half-Marathon. This month is a busy one, filled with daily blog posts, a few article assignments, Fall break, and my husband’s complete lack of sanity in asking me to plan a week-long driving tour of the entire country of Ireland. (Will he never learn?) All that to say, I thought to myself, “What could possibly make me feel crazier than I already do?” Cue the 13.1 mile race.

I chose to sign up because I eat too much cheese, and because the race reminds me of Hope. And in the midst of a few book rejections and some changes barreling down the path, I need Hope. I need it like I need air. Maybe you do too. On Saturday, we talked about finding the space and silence to dream. Today, let’s talk about wrapping our dreams up in something bigger–Hope.

The following is a re-post from last October’s archives.

Yesterday, I ran the Lucerne Half Marathon. While I ran, in an effort to keep my mind off of my burning thighs, I was thinking about this post. Along the way, a number of spectators stood along the sidelines cheering for the runners, clanging cow bells, and raising sharpie scrawled poster board signs. Many chanted ‘Hopp, Hopp’ in Swiss German, which to my American ears, sounded a lot like ‘Hope, Hope’. It was exactly what one needs to hear when every muscle and ligament yells ‘Stop, Stop’.

At one point in the race, the street path diverted into a mile long tunnel. We entered it to the low, soulful sound of alphorns playing. It was dimly lit, and every 100 meters or so, a lone spectator stood clapping and shouting ‘Hopp, Hopp, Hopp’. As I ran, the sound of the alphorns and the shout of Hope reverberated and echoed throughout the tunnel. It reminded me that regardless of where we are in our journey, a symphony of hope surrounds us. It becomes especially clear in the dimly lit places, where the light at the end might stretch miles out. But we know it’s there.

Tune in to the sound of hope. It will see you through the dark places, the ones that burn and ache from your efforts. Train your ears to hear hope when everything inside you wants to give up.

We exited the tunnel to sun and a gust of fresh air. All I heard was the slap of my feet on the pavement, calling me forward, to freedom.

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