Have any of you seen the guy, Matt, dancing all over the globe? With beautiful people in many beautiful countries? If not, please go to this You Tube site and check him out.

www.minnpost.com/stories/2008/06/27/2396/dancing_with_the_universe

So, every time I watch this video, I cry. And every time I show it to someone, they cry. And almost every time, myself or the other person says, “I don’t know why I am crying.” I think I might know why, now.

The sport of running has never been easy for me. But I have taken to it, along with biking and swimming for the last three months, as I have been training for a triathlon that will take place this weekend. To assist me, a friend recently told me to find my breathing rhythm. So, I went out the next morning for a short run and I found it. One inhale, two exhales. One inhale, two exhales. A little like labor breathing when I pushed my son’s beautiful big head, under my pelvic bone, and into the world. And it helped me, a lot. I was not flailing when I returned home and my husband did not say, “Are you sure you are supposed to be breathing that hard?” And I usually return that caring question with a glare. I know he means well, but come on. It's a little humiliating coming home after a mile run with a beet red face, unable to speak.

So, I decided today, I was going to run three miles, the distance of the run in the sprint triathlon, just so I knew mentally that I could do it. And I did it. I ran fifteen minute miles, but I finished what I started. And I breathed my rhythm. As I ran, I noticed my rhythm would change, depending on how hard I was exerting myself. Sometimes, it would be one inhale, one exhale. Other times, one inhale, two exhales and an inhale. But I would stay in each rhythm for a while and then it would naturally change and I would stay with that one, and so on and so forth.

The running is easier when I am breathing in a rhythm, because my breath is my metronome. My awareness and my feet follow my breath and my mind is quieted. I am in sync. Body, mind and soul. When I stopped my rhythm by saying hello to someone, or my feet got off track, my mind would say  things like, “You will never do three miles.” Or, “Wow, you have done three miles, who can you call and show off to?” And my heart would say, “Honey, you ran two and a half miles so far, you are not even at three miles, yet. Cool it.” And then, I would return to my breathing. My breath is the sign pointing to God. My breath is my fuel. And without it, I am not here. I cannot show up fully. And when my breath is in rhythm, like a metronome, my truest music plays. There is something steady to hold onto.

So, when I see Matt dancing his goofy dance, sometimes in the middle of hundreds of people in Spain, I feel at home. In many of the frames, I find myself searching for his body, elbows touching his ears and back again and running in place. It makes me laugh and cry at the same time. He calls himself the human metronome. I get it, Matt. The regular rhythm helps us hold onto ourselves. It helps us hold onto home within us in a world that is constantly shifting, with every second. With every breath.