The Cosmic Baker sprinkles a wide variety of talents onto each individually crafted human. Some get a shake of art sauce and become passionate about creating visual masterpieces vividly recording the imagination of the artist. Some receive a dose of vocal spice and spin wonderful musical tales of the human spirit through the sounds and rythmns of song. The Baker has a shake of talent for everyone. My raw form passed through His hands in 1950 and received a few extra shakes of runner dust.
Just like the singers and artists, I had no say in which talent I was given. I was completely formed and baked in the cosmic oven unaware of my awaiting destiny as I entered this world. Baked with the perfect size, heart, bones and muscles suited for the long distant runner, I had only to discover the talent that awaited awakening. When the talent was revealed I became passionately dedicated to improving upon and using the single gift bestowed on me. I am now and probably will die a satisfied runner.
My running has elicited a lot of positive and negative attention. I have been waved at, clapped for, encouraged and hugged. Also, I have endured spit projected toward me, cans and bottles thrown in my direction, dogs released on me, rude comments, taunting and road rage. There seems to be a wide variety of opinions about runners in the general population. I have a special warm connection with the lovers of runners. Obviously, waving hands, friendly smiles, ocassional hugs and encouraging words makes me feel the connectivity of the human spirit.
But, the runner haters, also are fascinating to me. Their intense passion of hating what I am passionate about puzzles me. I think the singer must feel uncomfortable around the heckler and the artist must be bewildered by the critic. Haters never stop talent from flowing, I don't know why the bother. Singers have to sing, artist must create images, and runners have to run. It is their passion.
So for all the haters who want to discourage my talent by driving though standing water to splash me, throwing cans out unrolled windows at me, narrowly missing me with your car, whistling and taunting me with "Run, Forest, Run!"
"Thank you, I will!" and I hope for you that your passion is found in finding compassion in the talents of others.