Each day in October I’m writing about zombie-like faith—faith that is slow and sluggish. Mostly I’m thinking about this in regard to the heart and soul, but today I had two examples from the physical realm that seem to apply here.
First, I’m suffering from a bit of a head cold. Nothing tragic, of course. But my sinuses are stuffed despite the constant drainage which is also making my throat a bit irritated. My eyes are watery, so I feel like I can’t quite see clearly. Basically, I feel like a zombie. I’m going through the motions of the weekend but have a sense of fuzzy, foggy detachment because of the symptoms.
Second, Mike ran the Chicago Marathon today, which is super impressive. More than 44,500 runners showed up for the chance to run 26.2 miles. Running that far requires a certain amount of training and gumption. But all the training in the world doesn’t guarantee that you will cross the line without experiencing various aches and pains. Watching finishers hobble about with cramped legs and sore feet is pitiful. And it reminded me of a zombie-shuffle. The body has been stretched and strained beyond normal, and that’s when it decides it’s done. Normal functioning ceases until the body repairs itself.
In both of these cases, the physical symptoms of illness and marathon running turn normally functioning humans into zombie-like beings. The result? People hobbling about, moving more slowly than usual, unable to experience fullness of life.
Have you ever experienced physical symptoms like this that send you into zombie-mode? Was it simply time and self-care that brought you back to life?