Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

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Two miles in my shoes

Week 5, Day 3. The end of the fifth week. The start of something incredible: my ability to run a couple of miles without stopping to walk. OK, so it’s more like jogging. We’re not setting any records here. Today’s 2-mile run took us about 27 minutes. Part of it was up hill.

The butterflies were dancing in my gut when I woke up this morning. Not since the first day when we’d set out on this quest have I felt so unsure of myself. As it would happen, the route we ran today was the same one we ran the very first time we trained. That day we walked much more than we ran, and I remember when we finished, I thought I was going to throw up. My lungs burned. My legs hurt.

Today, when I passed the same point where I’d felt that five weeks ago, I encouraged myself with those thoughts and pressed on. I really have come a long way since then. At the end of today’s run, I was breathing hard, but not so hard I couldn’t talk to Phil. My legs found an extra boost for the last stretch, which was also downhill, but still, they weren’t giving out on me. I felt good, and again, I couldn’t believe it. I keep expecting to hate what we’re doing, to want to quit because it’s too much. Instead, after each milestone, I want to keep going, face the next challenge and conquer it.

Now that the first 2-mile run is behind us, we’re committed to registering for the 5K, making it official, no backing out.

This is a crazy, amazing journey. If you’re at all interested in exercise, I recommend this plan 100 percent. It’s gradual. Each day is doable. I’m a reformed running-hater because of this plan.

Thanks for cheering us on! I can’t wait to see how this all ends.

Snapshots from my recent guilt trip

I feel the need to confess. I’m not 100 percent satisfied with being a mom.

I love my kids. They’re a great joy. They make me laugh, and I’m grateful that God gave them to me. I’m still amazed at the whole womb to birth to child development process.

But.

I need more than this. More than dirty diapers, jarred baby food, car seats, breastfeeding, potty training, waking up at 5 a.m. to crying children and a constant state of unclean. People tell me I’m going to miss these days. Really? I’m going to miss graham crackers stuffed into a piggy bank?
Stepping on toys in the middle of the night? Temper tantrums? Getting up 20 times during a meal to meet the needs of a  2-year-old, then a 10-month-old, then back to the 2-year-old? Stickers in every corner of the house, and on the van?

And for this, I feel guilty.

I know moms who seem to be totally content in their role. I love that you home school, make Halloween costumes, create fun activities and projects to do on rainy days, and enjoy your kids so much that even a day without them is hard.

I’m not you.

For this, too, I feel guilty.

Why is it that no matter our situation, we moms seem to always be on a guilt trip? And is it only moms or are women, for some reason, prone to book themselves on a one-way flight to can’t-measure-up land?

I heard at Bible study tonight that women find it tough to be “too much and not enough all at the same time.” (Our video quoted Staci Eldredge, “Captivating” author, among others.)

So, we can’t win? If we’re too much we feel guilty and if we’re not enough we feel guilty. That’s enough to make me feel guilty.

God has given me a passion — OK, I’ll call it a gift even if I don’t always want to believe that — for writing. And I’m insanely frustrated right now because there are words, stories, projects, scenes in my head, fighting for attention, trying to make their way from my brain to a computer screen somewhere, and I can’t make it happen. I can’t find the time. When I do have some time, I feel like I’m too wiped out to put in the effort writing requires. I need to read and research and write, and instead my days are spent with my two darling adorable children who will only be this age for so long, and at times, I’m resentful that I don’t seem to have any time to do what I was made to do.

And, you guessed it, I go back to feeling guilty.

So, what’s a mom to do? I can’t stop raising my kids. I’m not even sure we’re done having kids. I know that raising them is a worthwhile experience, but I can’t ignore the passion to write that burns inside me. I’m really bad at waiting. And I think to myself: if God is making me wait on the writing, then why is my head full of ideas?

I feel stranded, and I need a way out. I’d like to settle in the land in contentment, but I’m not sure I have the resources to make it there right now.

If you know a good travel agent, let me know. I’ve taken my last guilt trip.

Leap of faith

Week 5, Day 2. Tiredness took over before we even hit the street this morning. Low to mid 40s when we loaded up the jogging stroller. Our session called for two 8-minute runs with a 5-minute walk in between. The first 8 minutes, I willed myself to not look at the stopwatch too soon, and when I did, nearly five minutes had passed. I was so encouraged that the next three minutes passed pretty quickly. The second 8 minute-run, however, not so much. I looked at the time too early, so the remainder sort of dragged.

But once again, at the end of the run, I felt good physically. So, looking ahead to our next training session, the 2-mile no-walking day, it’s not a matter of knowing my body can handle it; it’s convincing my brain that I can do it. We’re fast approaching the time when we’ll lose the walking altogether. I’m scared, but I know if we don’t make this leap now, I won’t want to make it at all.

No turning back now.

Sometimes, you’re just gonna get hurt

Isabelle (she’s 2) decided to put dishes away this morning. I didn’t ask her to do it. It was just part of her 90-mph-morning energy burn. She found the cowboy hat cookie cutter I’d used earlier in the week on her turkey and roast beef sandwich and excitedly took it to the cupboard where it goes. She grabbed the handle, pulled hard and smacked herself in the face with it. Wailing ensued. But a Hello Kitty ice pack calmed her.

In her zest for life, her eagerness to help, Isabelle got hurt. She wasn’t expecting to get hurt; it just happened.

Am I equally as willing to give my all to help, to squeeze the life out of life at the risk of getting hurt?

I don’t know if this exactly applies or not, but this FFH song that’s out right now, “Undone,” has really been challenging me. Especially the words of the chorus:

Come undone, surrender is stronger
I don’t need to be the hero tonight
We all want love we all want honor
Nobody wants to pay the asking price

That last part, that’s what gets me. Am I willing to pay the price for what I really want out of life? Am I willing to get hurt?

I’ve heard Christians talk about taking calculated risks, and I get what they’re saying, that we shouldn’t do stupid stuff, but adding the word “calculated” to the word “risk” seems like watering down the whole concept. I think I could talk myself out of just about anything in the name of “calculated risk.”

I don’t want to be careless with my life and my decisions, but sometimes I think I’m too careful about everything. I’m not sure careful cuts it in the kingdom of God, but I don’t have any Scripture to back up that theory right now. Jesus does tell people to count the cost before deciding to follow Him, so maybe I’m way off base here.

If nothing else, a simple boo-boo this morning has given me something to chew on, spiritually and mentally speaking.

Like a sore thumb

Week 5, Day 1. Three 5-minute running sessions with two 3-minute walks in between. Another 40-ish degree morning. This may become the norm now that it’s the middle of October, but I was better prepared today with one of my husband’s Army-isssued Under Armour-type long sleeve tees with thumb holes. My hands stayed warm, though I noticed they were really dry later in the day. This was less overall running than we did last week but more long stretches. Monday, we’ll be up to 8-minute runs, which I can still hardly believe.

Even though we’re on our fifth week, I have trouble thinking of myself as a runner. I run, but does that make me a runner? To the people we meet on these morning runs, we probably are considered runners. After all, who would be out by 8 o’clock, with two kids in a jogging stroller, in 40-degree temperatures if they weren’t runners (and didn’t have to put kids on the bus)? I sometimes wonder what people are thinking. Do they think we’re crazy? (The answer is probably “yes.”) Are they convicted of their need to exercise or feel guilty about their own routines? (Probably not at that time of the morning, driving by at 30 mph!) Are they inspired to start doing something? (I can only hope.) Do they see us as fanatical and different or committed and driven?

Only one time have I not wondered these things. When we hit the Lebanon Valley Rail Trail on Monday, we joined a club of sorts. Everyone we met was walking, on purpose, or riding a bike. People come to the trail to exercise, so we didn’t have to feel weird.

I had similar struggles today as we ventured to the King of Prussia mall, touted as the premier East Coast shopping destination. It’s huge. It’s urban. It’s hip. It’s diverse. I felt underdressed the minute we walked in, and I wasn’t even wearing a ratty T-shirt! We decided to make this our fun family event for the end of Reading Week, Phil’s break from classes, and we planned ahead of time that we wouldn’t spend much money because frankly we don’t have much money to spend. I’m sure no one could have known that about us by looking at us or passing by, but I felt out of place, like that old “sticking out like a sore thumb” idiom says. This feeling heightened when Isabelle got tired and wanted to ride in the stroller. We had to switch Corban to a back carry with one of our babywearing carriers, and I thought I heard comments (maybe I’m just paranoid) but I know we got looks, the double-take kind. We didn’t see any other babywearers in the mall. I wanted to head straight to Lancaster’s Central Market, where every other kid is being worn by a mom or dad.

I’ve never really liked being different or sticking out from a crowd, especially not as a kid where my goal was to get through school mostly unnoticed. I wanted to blend in, be like everyone else, have no outstanding qualities that could be the cause for criticism or ridicule. I’ve grown up a little since then, but that feeling hasn’t totally gone away.

As Christians we’re called to be in the world but not of the world. Am I the only one who finds it hard to follow that admonition? I love Jesus. I know what I believe. But I also want to have friendships with people before they write me off as a freak.

Maybe this is another unintentional lesson from running. Inevitably, I will be able to call myself a runner, thus identifying with a group of people who some (me, at one time, included) don’t understand. The faith I cling to may require the same.

Some people may not understand why we’re training to run a 5K, but maybe they’ll see how it’s changing us.

Some people may not understand why we choose to follow Christ, but I hope they’ll see how He’s changed our lives.

Cool running

Week 4, Day 3. On to week 5. Has it really been almost 5 weeks since we started this crazy journey? We’re close to halfway, a little more than a month out from our 5K and this time next week, we’ll be running 2 miles, no walking.

As we finished week 4 today, I felt good. The run wasn’t as difficult as it was Monday. My legs held out and actually didn’t feel weak when we were done. The downside today was it was barely 40 degrees outside when we started. I didn’t wear gloves. I really wanted gloves.

The weather is going to force a bit of a transition in clothing and preparation, I think. But even the cool temps couldn’t deter me this morning. I want to see this thing through to the end.

Our next couple of workouts will be hard, but I’ve thought that before. If  I expect it to be hard, maybe it’ll go better than I thought? I guess only time will tell.

What I’ve appreciated about this running plan is the gradual increases in running times. I would have been overwhelmed if we’d have just started running two miles (not to mention injured, discouraged and worn out). As we complete each week, my physical endurance builds and so does my confidence.

Have you ever looked at a trial someone is going through and thought, “I don’t know how they do it; I could never go through that.”? I think it’s like the running. Events in their life have strengthened and encouraged them and prepared them for this trial, no matter what it is. And when they look at it, they see how difficult it is, but by God’s grace and His power working in them, they continue on the course set before them and find a strength and endurance they didn’t know they had.

Even if they have to take it one step at a time.

Diary of a fat kid

Week 4, Day 2. It’s getting serious now. Today we drove to the Lebanon Valley Rail Trail (sort of like the trail that goes to Lowell Park for all you Sauk Valley-ites) for our training session. The trail will be part of the 5K course we plan to run in November. I don’t know what it was about today — Two days of rest? A long walk the night before? No breakfast? — but I struggled to stay motivated today. For the first time since we started this journey, I felt like giving up during one of the running segments. It’s a mental game for me right now, I think. My body can do it. I know my body can do it. But, at least today, I didn’t want to. We finished without turning around, so we had a long walk back to the car, but by the time that was over, I felt like I could run again, not that I was going to, but I had recovered my will a little.

The reality of running this far is starting to weigh on me. I keep thinking of myself as the fat kid trying to run a mile and a half in gym class in enough time not to fail. I see the athletes and skinny kids passing me, finishing with an A or a B grade while I struggled to push myself to a D grade. I’m wondering if I really can do this, if I really have it in me.

Forgive my side trip into therapy here for a minute, but this teenage insecurity has been plaguing me lately. Last night, I suggested to my husband that we go for a walk as a family because I didn’t think our 2-year-old had had enough exercise that day, and I thought, when I looked at her, that I could see a bit of a “pooch” in her belly.

So here’s my fear: I am still scarred by my own body image insecurities and will pass those on to my daughter through my actions, attitudes, behaviors, etc. Being the “fat kid” in grade school gives me a bit of anxiety when the doctor says Isabelle is in the 75th percentile for weight and the 10th percentile for height. I don’t want her to have to struggle with her weight or how she sees herself or to be teased by kids and have her zest for life sapped from her.

This exercise with family thing is such a balancing act. If my husband and I want to have a good workout, then the kids have to ride. If we want the kids to get exercise, then we sacrifice our own fitness because of their pace. I’m happy about the changes we’re making to be healthy and fit, and I know that by building this foundation now, we’re setting ourselves up for an easier time of family exercise when the kids can keep up or ride bikes. Still, I worry. Too much.

And I know that if I don’t deal with the “fat kid” from my past, then I’ll be of no help to my daughter when she begins to face these issues. I don’t want to be indifferent about her activity levels, but I also don’t want to create an environment where she overreacts to the many changes her body will undergo. (We’re watching the current season of “The Biggest Loser,” and one of the contestants has a daughter who was starving herself because she didn’t want to be fat like her mom. Lord, help me, I don’t want to be there.)

Like I said before, it’s a mental game right now, and this is some of the baggage I’m carrying as we train. I’m hoping to throw off what hinders, as the apostle Paul says, so I can truly run free … literally and spiritually.

Inside of me there’s an athlete dying to get out

Week 4, day 1. Now, it’s getting serious. Of the 21 1/2 minutes of training we did today, we ran 16 of those minutes. Not continuously yet, but still, when I looked at our workout that way, even I was impressed with how far we’ve come. This week’s training includes two 5-minute runs, our longest stretch of running to date. Being the keeper of the stopwatch, I tried to discipline myself not to look too often at the time as it was passing. Such a temptation to watch the seconds tick away.

When we started out this morning, I was a little grumpy. Tired from being awake before 6 a.m. with a fussy baby. Hungry from delaying breakfast till after our run (my usual habit when we run in the early morning). Overwhelmed by our plans for the day after our run. By the time we finished the run, I was in a great mood. My husband says I’m learning what the runner’s high feels like.

Even though my legs were talking to me after the run, I felt amazing. At times, I even felt like my feet were carrying me. Like I didn’t even have to try to make them move. Is that the mental part of running?

I haven’t really been an athlete since high school, far too long ago to admit to here, but I’m sensing that she’s re-emerging. She’s been given a taste of regular exercise again, and she wants to keep it up. And she wants to give it her best shot. To excel. She’s been in hiding far too long.

Welcome back, friend.

Looking ahead

Week 3, Day 3. One-third of the way to our 5K. We ran a new route today, which took us past the seminary and our church’s denominational headquarters, which means we saw lots of people we know as we ran today. Even though we’ve been talking about it, and I’ve been blogging about it, having our friends see us running or walking with the jogging stroller was different. Like we finally went public with our new sport/hobby.

My legs are feeling it more today. Stretching was, well, a stretch today. The kids were a bit cranky and needed some attention just before we left and after we got back. We ran around lunch time again today, not something we’re planning to make a habit of, but we’re being flexible to make sure we get three runs in a week with some rest times in between. So, I feel like I could have had better quality stretching. But I can’t complain too much. I can still walk.

Two days till our next run, the start of another new week. So, we looked ahead to see what we’ll be doing next. It’s starting to get serious. In less than two weeks, we’ll be running two miles. What????!!!!!  One day at a time. I don’t think I’ve ever run two miles. I’m a little freaked out but excited at the same time.

Do you remember your first mile or two miles of all running and no walking? How did you prepare yourself mentally for it, and what did you feel when you were finished?

Neither rain, nor sleet, nor hail, nor dark of night …

Week 3, Day 2. Rain again today. And cold. Not sure it was even 50 degrees when we set out today. The kids were cozy in the stroller and had fun playing with the raindrops that landed on the outside of the windows. We didn’t think twice about canceling today’s training. We couldn’t. We had to adjust our schedule this week to get three runs in because of some early morning commitments later in the week, and if we waited for a clear, non-rainy day, we’d lose our opportunity. As we walked for our warm-up (which by the way is inaccurate terminology on a day like today; I don’t think I ever actually warmed up.) and were pelted with cold rain drops, I thought of a friend of ours who is known for her walks around town. Cold, rain, snow, heat, whatever the element, since we’ve lived here, we would see her pass our house on her daily walk. Some days, days like today, I’d think, “She’s crazy.” Today, we were the crazy ones. My husband agreed. And we passed our friend’s house. If she had seen us, I wonder if she would have said the same thing.

This running thing, it’s kind of a crazy thing, and I’m glad to be called such. We had a great training session. My only complaint was that my legs and knees didn’t appreciate the cold, or the downhill that we usually run uphill. I’m still tinkering with the running wardrobe. Today, I wore a long-sleeve tee under a regular tee and shorts. I might have been OK with the pants today. I added a hat for the first time, which was a big benefit to being able to see in the rain. The last time we ran in the rain, I was blind by the time we finished. Today, I still had sight when we were cooling down.

I’m amazed at how determined I am to do this, even in the rain and the cold. I think having a goal at the end helps. Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe I’m getting this discipline thing. Or the commitment thing. That you stick with a plan no matter the obstacles you face. You tough it out for the reward at the end. Applies to running. Applies to marriage. Applies to life.

For those of you reading, you inspire me with your stories and advice and encouragement. You’ve been there, and I see that I can get there. I can’t wait.