Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns
If you think Jesus would have come into your home that day and not issued a strong rebuke to the head of household, you are mistaken. These words of condemnation have been haunting me for days now. They aren’t all that different than the soundtrack I play in my head on an almost-daily basis. It’s…
I am nesting. On Saturday I emptied the refrigerator. Last summer’s homemade pickles in their jars. The bread ends that seem to multiply on every shelf. The eggs. The milk. The fruit and veggies. All of it sat on the floor or the counter as I carefully removed the shelves and wiped them down with…
I’ve heard that life is like a highway. And it definitely seems like that sometimes. The pace of life swirls around me at dizzying speeds. We’re all so busy. In such a hurry. Always somewhere to be, something else to do. I’m a get-to-the-point, get-there-quick kind of girl. I don’t like to waste time on…
Week 7, Day 1. 2.5 miles on the docket today, but it’s also Saturday, which means weigh-in day. I was extremely hopeful because my jeans were fitting well this week and someone asked me if I’d been losing weight. Until this week, my husband was seeing the benefits, but I wasn’t.
So, I excitedly hopped on the scale before our run this morning and saw … I’d gained half a pound? After gaining the past two weeks also? 
I was so depressed I didn’t even want to run.
What’s the point? I thought. I’m running three times a week and gaining weight, so why bother.
I evaluated my eating habits from the week and acknowledged that maybe I hadn’t done great this week, but certainly it couldn’t have been bad enough to counteract three days of running, could it?
My husband, in an effort to make me feel better, put himself on the scale only to discover he’d lost more weight. Thanks, honey. I feel loads better.
My mood didn’t improve when I couldn’t find my ear gear and dropped a stroller on my toe while looking for it.
As with most of our running days, though, it didn’t take long to get over it. Phil picked a new route today, and it took us across a one-lane bridge and past a wooded area near what looked like an old mill. It was lovely.
Early in the run, I felt like I was on autopilot. Between mile 1 and 2, I felt like I was dragging a little. Around the 2 mile mark, I picked up the pace, convincing my feet that yes, we were still running and walking was not an option.
With a few blocks to go, I had to take over pushing the stroller for Phil because his calf tightened up. We actually shared the burden for the last few blocks, and when we hit our stopping point, I was sure I was going to throw up. Nevermind that I didn’t have anything in my stomach.
We normally high-five after a run, but both of us were recovering, so we forgot. Our time today was just a shade over 33 minutes.
Years ago, I used to help my mom at the end of the Reagan 5K run. We’d snip electronic tags off people or take their numbers or something. I’d see people gasping for breath, puking and dripping with sweat, and I’d wonder, why in the world do they do it? Why put yourself through it?
I felt like those people a little today. I’m not sure I have the answers, but I know that the yucky feelings pass quickly and eventually I feel really good about what we’ve done.
Weight loss or no weight loss, maybe that’s where I need to focus. We’re still doing a good thing, even if the scale wants to tell me a different story.
Week 6, Day 3. Yep, we’re approaching week 7. This morning we woke up to fog, so I donned the reflector belt while Phil decided the stroller’s reflectors would be enough for his safety. We didn’t meet much traffic so it wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.
The thing about fog is that you can’t see well where you’re going. We Google mapped a 2.2 mile route, so I had a picture in my head of how far we’d gone, but I had to jog by memory and faith along the way as I determined where we were at on the journey.
As we ran up the final hill, I knew that we had less than a mile to go, and I was encouraged; I can do this, I told myself. When Phil jogged in place so we could be side by side for the last three blocks, I found new energy. I could see the end, so I jogged all the faster.
And I thought about all the hard stuff of life. How sometimes it’s like being in a fog, and even if you know the way, you can’t always see exactly where you’re at. Sometimes I get tired of enduring the junk this world offers us, and I want to know that the end is near. That it’s almost over. Not in a fatalistic, I’m sick of this kind of way, but in a relief sort of way. Like saying, Finally. I don’t have to struggle anymore.
I know the Bible offers us hope an end will come, even if it comes through our deaths. I just have to keep reminding myself that this won’t go on forever and every step is progress.
So, as far as running goes, good-bye 2.2 mile run. Hello, 2.5 mile run for the next three training days. Oh yeah, and we ran today’s route in 29 minutes, about 90 seconds longer than our 2 mile run a week ago.
Progress! It’s all about gaining ground.