The Oblivious Chase for Patriotism

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On July 4^th, I ran the 10K Run for Hunger charity race. The event began at 8:00 AM, hours after a flash flood devastated multiple communities. Unaware of the catastrophe that had occurred last Friday, I warmed up with capoeira movements in my garage and jogged to the starting line.

When I arrived at the race in California, mourners and emergency responders searched for the remains of family members and friends in Texas. Along with a parking lot of vendors and runners, I prepared for the event without much concern for safety. To fuel my body and mind, I stood to the side, turned on my running playlist, and stretched.

At 7:50 AM, a race marshal directed us to the starting line.

In Central Texas, police and others had placed caution lines around volatile scenes, while we listened to a brief presentation and the singing of the National Anthem on the West Coast.

Following a “5, 4, 3, 2, 1,” countdown, a horn sent us off. I pushed my way through the crowd without touching anyone. With focus, I started strong and had to remind myself to slow down before reaching the first mile marker.

At around mile 2, a man dressed in an American flag tank top with matching shorts passed me. I inhaled, closed my eyes, and transformed the patriotic American into a target for the remainder of the race. With my shoulders down and chin up, I ran faster to catch him.  

The runner in the American flag running suit, Mr. Patriotism, outpaced me. I sprinted at times to find him, but I frequently found myself surrounded by other runners along the course. Mr. Patriotism vanished.

Eight hundred fifty-eight runners laced up their running shoes to help feed hungry families. Many ran with a different type of hunger. They burned calories with a desire to win and empty their stomachs before Independence Day barbeques. Some acted like elite athletes seeking a gold medal.

I pushed myself, oblivious to the disaster in Texas, toward a personal best. My pace averaged at 7:10 per mile.

During the final stretch, I accelerated one last time and reentered the parking lot. I spotted my children and wife cheering on the sidelines and sprinted across the finish line. Immediately, my hands went behind my head to pull oxygen into my lungs.

I struggled to breathe as Mr. Patriotism strolled past me. He hadn’t realized how he motivated me throughout the race. Moments later, a hand interlaced its fingers with mine.

“Dad, you really run fast," I said, smiling at my youngest child's comment and picking up the finisher’s medal from the rack.

After verifying the race results and grabbing some snacks, we walked home. I talked about my disappointment, not finishing faster, and promised to take a day off.

Fast forward to the next morning, I laced up my shoes and ran again. I didn’t see Mr. Patriotism or even “one big beautiful bill.” Yearnings to love the opportunities in America, improve myself, and impact underserved communities carried me across sidewalks and trails.

Twenty-four hours later, I learned about the flood in Texas. I had difficulty wrapping my mind around the deaths on the morning I ran a 10K race. Awareness of the tragedy reinforced recent reminders of the brevity of life. 

Whether you choose to run a race this weekend or sit on your couch, appreciate the blessing of time. Pray, send positive energy, and meditate this weekend. Texans, college students, undocumented families, the Ruidoso village in New Mexico, and an array of other people experiencing loss and pain need support.

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