The Way of the Meme

I don’t think I’m a bad person. Like most people there are one or two things that I’ve done in my life that I’d like to take back. But when I get to the pearly Gates there isn’t much I have to hash out with St. Peter. Not until Sunday. That is when I chose to forsake my faith and was won over by the power of the meme.

The meme – social media’s single serving nugget of knowledge and humor. This fortune cookie of the electronic age, a picture and a splash of words meant to hand out wisdom, laughs, or inspiration. Oh sure, to most people a meme is something that they just breeze by in their newsfeed, stopping for a quick glance. I was one of those people.  But as I lay in bed at 6:30 Sunday morning, I was debating my running plan for the day. Should I keep it simple or should I really push myself? I want to do a half marathon, and there is this 11 mile route I had been considering, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that distance. But then I saw the light.

Limitations? 
I HAVE NO LIMITATIONS! No weakness! No excuses! No matter that I hadn’t gone that far since April. No matter that I haven’t run more than six miles since my hip flexor & IT band told me to they’ve had enough, sending me to physical therapy for a three months. 
It didn't matter that I was recovering from Plague Lite. 
Why consider the time crunch and that I'd have to explain to my wife why I wasn't back in time for church if I failed?  It didn’t matter. I couldn't fail. The meme spoke to me. They ALL did!

Yes!  No regrets!   

ITS NOT TOO LATE!

LIVE EVERY DAY!

COMMIT TO MYSELF!

HAVE FAITH!!!!

 Amen, brother! I believed and I was going for it.

And for a while it was great! Jogging along one of my familiar routes until I hit the usual turn. And instead of turning, I broke free and went straight. Heading west with every step and getting closer to Auburn than I had run before on this road. Still well within my usual distance, I was moving along confidently. Morning fog was burning off as I went past the grazing yaks. (Seriously. We have yaks here). Doubt was there, for sure. Fueled, no doubt by fate’s foreshadowing  of danger to come, with a larger than usual assortment skulls and bones along this stretch of Weedsport-Sennett Road. Not human, I believe, but all deathy nonetheless.

And before I knew it, I arrived at the valley of the shadow of death, which on this day was called Turnpike Road. That was where Auntie Meme was letting me down. Doubt crept in. Maybe I did have limitations. I was approaching my recent distance maximum and on a slightly unfamiliar road. And I hadn’t yet hit the half way mark. Way out here more trees and less traffic gave it a road less traveled feel. Comfort came in knowing I wasn’t the only runner out there. Hansel and Gretel must have jogged not far in front of me as they left a trail of runner’s loogies along the way. Way better than bread crumbs, I guess. No one was getting lost out here because even the crows weren't picking at that. 

Turnpike beat me down at miles 6 & 7 as it was all hill, hill, hill. The downs were good. Ups? Killers. Fine. I gave up. I was beat. I had to walk. Had to. Run/Walk, anyway, all five miles home. The meme was wrong. I did have limitations. It was a Golden Calf who did not take into account my tin IT band. 

I could still repent, right? Maybe St. Peter will cut me some slack. I can plead guilty to lesser charges. Mentally writing this blog during mass or for doing some light stretching in the pew should cover my blasphemy charge.

So there is no power of the meme. But I did get out of bed and try. Eleven miles under two hours wasn’t bad. I didn’t get home too late. I didn't even have to schmooze my wife. I’ll be saving that for St. Peter.