Ostriches are a fascinating invention, perhaps born when God was feeling capricious. Being the biggest bird we know of, they cover ground with the speed of a car traveling side streets. Plus, their endurance leaves predatory lions in the dust. 

 

There was a nature video that explored their skill, using high speed cameras. To begin with, their stride is twice as long as an Olympian. Plus, it turns out that those long, skinny leg wannabes are actually feet. Their ankles land where our knees do. This somehow enables their strength to arrive from tendons, as compared to muscles. The way they explained it, in layman's terms, was that jumping is quickly exhausting for people. But give a child a pogo stick, and she will bounce a long time with little effort. Long enough that her mother kind of wishes she would stop and play video games. Tendons store and release energy like a rubber band. Or something like that. 

 

They went on to say that an ostrich could run a marathon in forty minutes, using half the calories a human would expend. 

 

As someone who is slowing down, this sounds enticing. 

 

It brought to mind a passage in Isaiah, that gives me hope for a return of surplus energy. 

 

"But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint:" Isaiah 40

 

There have been times when my endurance surprised me. Watching a young mother the other day, I marveled at her unceasing attention to her three small children. Then I remembered that I did that too, long ago. Composing stories each day bears a similarity to a marathon that covers no ground. And yet, each morning I bounce back to do it again. 

 

I wonder if there is a correspondence between tendons and love. No one has yet found the bottom of that particular jar.