I have always hated running. I joined the track team in fifth grade because it seemed like the thing to do at the time, but I found myself with lungs burning, feet stumbling, and my whole body feeling like I was going to die. Breathing was difficult, and every fiber of my being told me that I was not meant to be a runner. The high jump seemed like a much better option. Or the long jump. I was good at jumping. Running was too hard.
Part of me wishes I knew more about running when I was a child. No one ever told me that learning to run is really hard, but it gets better. I didn't know that my burning muscles and cramping sides were a normal part of learning to run. To my childish understanding, if running didn't feel good, it just meant that I was not cut out to be a runner. I had avoided running for years when one day my husband Brandon decided that he wanted to learn to run. Good for him. He bought shirts to wick away his sweat and fancy shoes to retrain the arches of his feet. Following a "Couch to 5K" program, he went from running 30 seconds at a time, to minutes of alternated running and walking, to longer stretches of running versus walking, and finally, to a 5K run. We saved the paper signs and safety pins that held a giant black number to his shirt when he ran in his very first 5K race. He subscribed to a running magazine and began to monitor his caloric intake, balancing his daily diet and exercise. His waistline shrank, and his self-confidence grew. I stood on the sidelines with a proud-wife smile on my face. My husband had become a runner.
Fairly early in his running program, I joined my husband and went on a few runs with him. I'll never forget when I, several months after giving birth to my daughter, totally peed my pants on a run several blocks away from our home. Not just a dribble. We're talking about a full-on peeing of the pants. There was nothing to do but keep running. I was so embarassed, but Brandon told me that it was fairly common for women to lose control of their bladdars while running. I felt a little bit better after that, but I still had some really squishy shorts until we made it home. That was not bad, however, compared to the physical discomfort of running itself. All of my old childhood complaints resurfaced: difficulty breathing, stitched sides, leaden feet, face heating to a beet red, and the feeling that my sinuses were shriveling with dryness. I hated it. It was not difficult to justify just letting Brandon run while I stayed home to take care of our new baby.
Two years later, a new friend asked me to begin running with her in the early morning. I was extremely skeptical, but she convinced me to try the Couch to 5K program with her. Our first run was really not bad at all. I only ran for 30 seconds at a time, I could breathe, and I did not have an overwhelming sensation of imminent death. Our next couple of runs were pretty good, too, but it soon became difficult to coordinate times to meet and run. We had many excuses to put it off: the summer heat, starting work early, being too tired. Our runs gradually petered out, and I was not too disappointed. Though I enjoyed spending time with my friend, I did not really like waking up so early in the morning to do something so uncomfortable, especially when it was tricky to consistently schedule time to run together. I thought I was content to let it pass, but it was too late. I had a taste of the satisfaction that comes from successfully doing something that is difficult but beneficial. I could not get running out of my head, but I was still not ready to set out on my own.
When I rediscovered belief in God yesterday, I began to feel excited about the new life laid before me. I began to think about what I could change about my daily habits to allow room for God every day. That was when I decided that it was time to start running. What better way to start the day than conquering one of my oldest failures and allowing a breadth of silent (relatively) undistracted time to listen to the voice of God? Would it be difficult? Yes. Uncomfortable? Yes. Rewarding? Yes. And good for my body and soul. A lot like believing in God.
When my alarm went off at 5:50am this morning, I rolled out of bed and into my morning routine, except I pulled on Nikes and exercise clothes instead of my work gear. Six a.m. found me briskly walking down the street in the coolness beneath the early morning sky. I was ready to run. But this time I went with no illusions. It was a beginning, and it would be hard. I prayed as I walked the first few blocks to warm up. As I relished the beautiful weather and the peace of our quiet neighborhood, it felt good to be alive and starting something new. Not following a specific program, I shot for a half-hour run following a familiar route my friend and I had used together. I would run for a block or two with breath coming in measured huffs and puffs. I tried to keep my head held high and my eyes before me. Were my shoulders relaxed? Was my stride too long or too short? I did not really know, but I tried to adopt a comfortable posture as my feet slapped the pavement, carrying me toward the next intersection. Only a couple more driveways until I could walk again...but walking was not much better than running. As soon as my pace slowed to a walk, it seemed even harder to breathe steadily, and exhaustion would hit me like a giant hand. Needless to say, it was not fun. But I did it. I ran in little chunks and walked between them to catch my breath. Once I reached a rough halfway point, I walked the rest of the way home.
I wish I would have had time to write my thoughts this morning right after my run, because I have already forgotten many of the specific Bible verses, snippets of songs, and phrases that coursed through my head as I ran and listened for God's voice. But they were there. The only one I clearly remember is the part of Hebrews 12:1 that tells us to "Throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and run with perseverance the race marked out for us." I had spent years walking and crawling through my life. Now, I am learning to do hard things. I am learning to run.
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