Isaiah 40:31 "but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."
I used to be a runner. Well, first I was never a runner. And then I became a runner. And as of today about two hours ago, I would say I used to be a runner. Tonight, that changed. I ran again. So, I guess I'm back to being a runner. I downloaded my Couch to 5K app and started again at Week 1, Day 1.
It was amazing. Not the run necessarily. I'm back to being slow and fairly out of shape. But the whole journey leading up to this run came rushing back to me as I was slipping my Seahawks leggings on. Tears started falling as I fitted my blue tank top over my torso. I was very aware of my breathing as I laced my sneakers and tied them onto my feet. And then, a period where the flood gates opened and I sat sobbing at the edge of my bed happened. What were the tears for? Elation. Giddiness. Fear. Heartbreak. Relief. Terror. All rolled into one. Is this how every run starts for me? No. Every one of those feelings was well-earned. The roller coaster of my running career has led to this moment in my bedroom, sobbing as I climbed on my treadmill.
November 5th, 2016. I had just finished a run, halfway through the Couch to 10K app. I was walking through my kitchen, stepped over a box and broke my foot. I now am the proud owner of a huge screw in the 5th metatarsal of my right foot. And my running was done just like that. I got my cast off in March sometime and was cleared for walking and running but fear filled my heart. Just looking at my treadmill filled my heart with anxiety. There was no way I could run. I prayed for healing. I worried about breaking it again. And I felt like there was no way I was going to be able to run again. I just resigned myself to the fact I would never run again.
And then I started feeling pain in my foot. Another trip to the surgeon and He recommended I get better shoes and wear them always. I got the shoes. And thought about running but was still so afraid.
My prayer partner and I just the other day read an article on the importance of solitude with Father God. She talked about what her solitary moments with Him looked like and how she finds time to spend with Him each day. And it hit me. Out loud to her I said "Running was my solitude." The realization of this hit me like a ton of bricks. Not only did I lose my physical exercise I had lost my spiritual exercise too.
I made it a goal (just yesterday) for myself to target three areas over the rest of this summer. Stay within my daily WeightWatchers points. Exercise of some sort every day. And get 10,000 steps on my Fitbit. At the end of the evening tonight, I had decided I was only going to accomplish one out of three of my daily goals. I hadn't exercised and I wasn't even close to 10,000 steps. I walked into my bedroom to Change into my jammies for bed.
As I was digging through the pile of laundry fresh from the dryer for pajamas, my attention was drawn to something else in a pile of shirts in the corner. A tan t-shirt that I didn't recognize. I pulled it out of the pile and knew it was a message. November 5th. The day I broke my foot. Not fifteen minutes before I was sprawled on my kitchen floor with searing pain in my foot, I had completed a virtual 5K. The charity attached to this 5K? The American Cancer Society. Why did I pick that charity? Because Clay, my other dad, had been diagnosed just a month before with an inoperable brain tumor. I had registered for the virtual race in his honor, submitting his name as who I was running for. The medal I received for completing it was given to him the day he finished his chemo and radiation treatments. I had completed that race just fifteen minutes before I broke my foot. And now, here was the t-shirt I had gotten for completing the race. Showing me what I had once accomplished. Showing me the things I had done before my fractured foot. Showing me that I didn't need to be reaching for my jammies. I needing to be reaching for my running clothes. So that's what I did. Using the message that was so clearly laid out for me on my bedroom floor, and using the tugging on my heart by Clay, I got my running clothes on, downloaded my app, and completed Week 1, Day 1 twenty-five minutes later.
Tears streamed down my face for most of my run. All of the emotions I listed above flooded into my head and into my heart. Elation at the fact that I was running again. Giddiness that I was getting one on one time with Father God and this blog post was being written as I was running. Fear that I would fail. Heartbreak in remembering Clay and missing him with every step on the treadmill. Relief that I wasn't as out of shape as I thought I was. Terror that my foot would break again. And then I heard these four words from my Father in heaven: "Do you trust me?" After a second, all my anxiety and fear melted away and I knew He was with me, holding me and protecting me through my run.
I am a runner. If I thought that running would have saved Clay from cancer, I would have run 500 miles (even more!). If I thought that running that many miles would get me to see him even for just one more hug, one more smile, one more "Hey, Sweet Pickles!" I'd do it.
God has blessed me with running. I am a runner. And through my running, I found solitude with my Lord and Savior, I found a way to contribute to a cause that means the world to me, I found a way to honor a man who means even more to me, I found my health and my well-being, I found that I could be broken and heal and pick right up where I left off, I found my inner strength, I found my obedience to God and my faithfulness in Him. I am a runner...and I'll run 500 miles if I have to. I'll run and not grow weary, because I have Father God and His amazing design. I have His plan for my life, even down to the simple things like finding a t-shirt in a pile of clothes to motivate me to lace up those sneakers. I am a runner. And I am eternally thankful for this whole journey.
Amen!
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