My husband and I enjoy running, so we head outside most mornings before teaching junior high to go for a run. During the short days of winter, we end up running in the dark. On trails. With headlamps. We run the same path every season, but this time of the year brings particular challenges. Besides being dark, the muddy ground is littered with fallen leaves, covering hidden rocks and branches. To avoid tripping on these camouflaged hazards, I carefully direct my headlamp onto the ground in front of me. While this is a safe way to run, I often get hyperfocused and keep my eyes intent on the circle of light just in front of my feet. With this narrow perspective, I tend to think more about my tired muscles and the frigid air enveloping my fingertips instead of enjoying the run.
There are always two places on our run where I move my attention away from the path. The first section is at the beginning of the upper trail. On the right, where the fir trees are thin, I can look over and catch a glimpse of the valley. I also check the status of my favorite mountain peak, known to the native Kalapuya as Seekseekqua. I see if it is hidden deep in clouds or wearing a crown of fog. Quickly gazing across the valley to that distant mountain broadens my perspective; I breathe in the brisk air and continue the slight ascent to the top, feeling a bit happier.
The second place I pause is at the top of the trail. Once I am there, I can see the next valley of rolling hills, and that broader scene rejuvenates me. When I look past my own two feet and take advantage of these bigger perspectives, I receive two benefits for the day. First, I can see and enjoy the beauty around me; and second, it gives me added strength to show kindness and consideration to those I will interact with.
For the past few years, all of us have been running in the dark with only a headlamp to light our path. As a result, many of us keep our heads down and only pay attention to where our feet will land. We only see that we don’t like wearing masks, and some of us worry that it is taking away our freedom. We look at the pressure to be vaccinated as being forced to do something we don’t think is necessary. We only look at our own feet instead of looking out at the broadened view beyond our steps, instead of looking up to see a global pandemic that is ravaging the entire world.
If we make an effort to look beyond our own feet to the bigger perspective of what is going on with those around us, we will recognize that countless individuals are suffering and that we aren’t the only ones stumbling along in the dark. If we make an effort to look up from the tiny light of our own headlamp, we will realize that wearing a mask has nothing to do with individual freedom but everything to do with showing kindness. We will see that getting a vaccination has nothing to do with our rights but instead gives us a glimmer of hope for returning to a more normal future.
When I get too focused on only what I can see in my headlamp, I try to look beyond myself for chances to seek beauty, keep hope and give kindness. (1) It’s not all about me; there is a bigger picture to see out there. So look past your own two feet once in a while and enjoy the view.
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