Thoughts Of A Running Atheist On A Starry Winter’s Morning.
This morning I woke up feeling like I was tied as a prisoner to my own circumstances. There’s that voice in my hand that is relentless with the old criticisms.
“You’re slow. You’re lazy. You’re not good enough. Just give up and eat pies for a living you idiot!”
That’s why I love running in the morning and losing myself in the sky and stars. I don’t feel alone. It’s grounding and it keeps me sane. My world disappears with me.
It lets me escape the barrage of shit that’s incessant in my head and I can forget about everything else and just run.
The Road As God
The road is real.
I don’t have to commit myself to believing in it to experience it. It reaps instant rewards or it cuts me up. It doesn’t fail me, but if I fail it, I fail myself by association,
The road is my salvation and damnation. I’m judged by what I put in, not by what shoes I wear on a Sunday or what order I utter incantations in.
With running, I can try again tomorrow and redeem myself completely.
My Beef With Conventional Religion.
Religion tries to turn truth into a commodity. It seals off one world view, packages it and re-brands it as Truth.
There’s a major fucking difference between truth and Truth™.
You can’t make a commodity out of what’s real.
Friends have tried talking me around to their idea of God by talking about how he has micromanaged their lives and to me it’s pretty embarrassing to hear.
To believe that God helped you pass your driving test, means that he purposefully ignored those in concentration camps and the millions of people who were shipped there with hopes and dreams and fears just like yourself.
Why would God give a shit about you passing your driving test when He didn’t give a shit about the millions who died?
It takes a lot of balls and/or ignorance to think that the small things in your own life are more important than the people who were routinely slaughtered like animals.
Then after years of wanting to argue with religious people, it finally hit me.
There Isn’t A God Watching.
I still can’t believe how much time I spent being angry at something that obviously isn’t there. I felt like a lunatic shaking my fist at an empty sky.
What was I fucking expecting? Thunder?
Running And The Preciousness Of Life
I don’t believe that I’ll exist forever. It gives my running a sense of urgency and poignancy knowing that every run in a new city could be my last.
If I thought that I’d be chasing a frolicking Jesus around a celestial cityscape in cloud white Nikes for all eternity, then it would diminish the joy of running.
It would cheapen what’s real now.
Running feels vital as I know the day will come when I can no longer do it. My running days are numbered. And as much as I talk about hating health foods, eating Cheese and drinking wine, I don’t want to become diseased and live a life of pain.
But I accept that I will die. No amount of tofu, celery or vitamin supplements will ever change that fact. It’s that ticking clock that keeps me going in the morning. Not the notion of being judged as worthy by anyone including the health freaks or the beautiful.
Those motherfuckers will die too.
It seems silly to worry about what others think of you when everyone will be gone sooner rather than later.
It seems silly to stress yourself out about something you actually love.
That’s why I try to switch off whenever I run and lose myself in the sky.
On Trying Not To Be A Ranting Atheist Dickhead.
Everyone is the same in that we’re ultimately alone in an unfriendly Universe. We do what we need to get by. If the notion of God stops you wanting to commit hari-kari with a pair of kitchen scissors in Subway while you’re waiting on your Meatball Marinara, then that’s OK. I can respect that.
What matters most is that you find peace in which ever path you choose in life.
And as much as I fucking hate running at times, I’m at my most peaceful when I’m out circling around town terrorising old ladies at worryingly low leg speeds.
Especially when it’s under a starry sky.