Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

couch to 5K

Why I Run in the Rain

It was a mild week in February when I started running again.

Well, let’s be honest, it’s more like walking and slightly faster walking. The fitness app on my phone registers it as walking, which is always slightly depressing because I’m definitely NOT WALKING when I’m out there, but whatever.

The first week is often the hardest, so I was lucky that I started my workouts on unseasonably warm days. By the second week though I was bundled up and running in biting winds. By week three, I was running through snow. I am now at 13 workouts (beginning of week five) of an eight-week program with the goal of running a 5K, and it’s no exaggeration to say more than half have been in some kind of rain, snow or cold weather. My most recent workout was in a cold spring downpour.

My shirt says “Chase Your Dreams.” I wish my dreams would pick some better weather.

I almost never want to leave the porch when I face the weather. I whimper. I groan.

And then I think about how far I’ve come and I go for it.

—

I’ve been a little stuck with the writing lately. There’s always something else, it seems, to distract me. Some of it is necessary. Some of it is not. This is part of what I feared when I started working part time in January. Before that, I had what I thought was an ideal schedule for writing, meaning my days were mostly free and I could spend them how I wanted.

Conditions, it would seem, were perfect for writing.

Except they weren’t really.

Sure, I churned out a lot of words in those days. I blogged regularly. I submitted a couple of pieces to other publications. I wrote a short story to give away to blog subscribers.

But I still found a lot of other things to do. Netflix. Coffee dates. Volunteer work. Hardly ever did I devote the kind of time to writing that I imagined I could.

So, it’s odd that now, when I have less hours in the day to write, I still have time for it. I may not be blogging every idea that comes into my head (that’s definitely true) or writing a ton of articles but I’m still writing.

Even though conditions are not perfect.

—

Sometimes I think about where I would be if I had waited for the weather to be perfect before I started working out again. I don’t have to think too hard. I would be stuck somewhere in week 2 slogging along trying to train for a 5K in May and running out of weeks to get it done.

Instead, I’m more than six weeks away from race day with less than half of the program to finish. I could skip a workout when the weather gets rough but I’ve built up some momentum and I want to keep it. The workouts are getting harder, but I don’t want to give up all the progress. The same is true with writing. I have a lot of words in a lot of different forms in my computer files. Too much to give up.

—

I’m easily discouraged, though.

I see other runners out on the sidewalks or hear casual talk of regular 3- and 4-mile runs. I think about how I shuffle through my workout with sweat, tears and aching muscles and wonder why I’m even out there doing this running thing. I don’t want to be a marathoner. I’m not aiming for the Olympics. I kind of sort of like running and I want to be healthier. But I’m not sure I’ll ever be trim or fast.

It’s not hard to criticize myself before I actually get out there and run. When my feet are pounding the pavement and I’m cresting small hills, when the number of consecutive minutes of running increases and I’m doing it without walking–those are the times I feel like I’m a runner, like I belong out there.

And writing is not much different. When I’m not writing, I’m jealous of all the other writers I know and the words they’re putting on pages. I’m convinced they have the perfect conditions for writing, so of course they can do that work. I look at my measly offerings of words and wonder if I will ever have what it takes to join the ranks. (Of what, I’m not even sure anymore.)

But when I’m writing, most of those doubts fade. The words connect with each other and sometimes readers and it suddenly doesn’t matter how much I’m writing or how fast. Regularly doing the writing is all that matters, and it doesn’t make a difference if my words are banged out in an hour after work or over half a Saturday or at 5 a.m.

Just doing it is what matters.

—

There is no such thing as the perfect time or the perfect conditions.

What a revelation, right? I feel like this is an obvious conclusion, but it’s taken me some time to see it.

Whether it’s running or writing or something else entirely, I can’t always wait for the perfect time or the perfect conditions. Sometimes it’s going to be sunny and mild. Other times I’ll be cursing the wind for daring to gust so much my cheeks turn pink. Sometimes I’ll start with sunshine and end in a downpour.

It’s cold but I’ve got goals!!! Week 2, day 1 of #c25k is calling my name.

A post shared by Lisa Bartelt (@lmbartelt) on

But every time, I just have to do it. Whatever it is.

Because if I wait until everything is perfect, it won’t happen.

—

 

There’s a big difference between the perfect time and the right time, and this theory does not apply to every thing in every season. The time for me to go back to work was neither perfect nor right when my kids were less than school age, and the time for running was neither right nor perfect when my back was spasming. Do not let this post be your ticket to a guilt trip. You do what you need to do.

But let it be a question you consider: Am I waiting for the perfect time to do something that only requires the right time? And is now the right time?

I cannot answer that for you. And if you want to share your answer in the comments below, I would love to encourage you at whatever time it is, for whatever goal you have.

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Let's talk about this running thing

This morning, cold rain falls from the sky and the air has its first real nip. A true fall day if there ever was one. I lingered under the covers longer than I should have, so we scrambled through our morning routine to get the kids to the bus on time.

I ought to be out there now, walking and jogging, listening to some upbeat tunes to lead me through my workout. Instead, I’m huddled under another blanket with a cup of coffee and words to keep me company.

For five of the last six weeks, since my kids have been in school, I’ve reintroduced regular times of exercise to my life. I began, again, a couch to 5k program, and it’s been slow going. After five weeks, I’ve officially completed three of the program’s weeks and I’m not sure yet I’m ready to move on to week 4.

But I’m trying not to be sad about this. I’m a task-oriented person and many times I just want to check the boxes and get it done, but I’m learning to listen to my body and my life and take it as it comes.

Besides the rain and chill this morning, I had a bit of a sore throat. I could go out there running but I might come home having weakened my immune system and be sick for days to come. There will be more running days next week.

This is, in a way, grace.

—

I have a lot of “shoulds” in my life, some valid, some not. Exercise brings this out in me, sometimes, as I run against traffic and imagine the criticisms of passing motorists. (Why I think they think of me at all is another problem altogether.)

That girl should not be running, I think. My weight is more than what I would like, and I am not fast or elegant. My first time out this fall I spent more time adjusting my T-shirt and trying to keep the headphones in my ears and focusing on not dropping my water bottle than I did on anything else. I’ve found solutions and more of a rhythm since then, but I am not what you would call a graceful runner.

Joshua Sortino | via unsplash

Joshua Sortino | via unsplash

But I am running. For multiple minutes at a time. And I am tired and sweaty and red-faced when I finish, but I feel strong and alive.

That, too, is grace.

I pass an older man who walks by shuffling his feet along. And I see others who walk with canes or use a wheelchair to get around, and I vow to enjoy the use of my legs for as long as I have them, even when my calves start to cramp and my feet hurt.

—

Eventually, I want to run a 5K. It has  been five years since the last time. It is a feat I never thought I would accomplish, but I did it once and I will do it again. My husband and I finished nearly last in that race, but we finished.

I’ve heard it said that slow and steady wins the race. It’s a lie.

I think of this when I’m out jogging. I am slow. I won’t win any races or break any records.

Slow and steady rarely wins the race. But slow and steady is in the race, and that, I think, is what matters.

—

There’s a lot of talk in the Bible, especially in Paul’s letters and other epistles, about running the race and training yourself for the Christian life like you would for a physical contest. And it only really makes sense to me when I’m actually out there jogging and running and walking and working toward a goal.

What I love about the program I’m using to build my running muscles is that it’s doable and it starts off gradually. The program doesn’t tell you to wake up one morning after having never run a step in your life and attempt a 5k.

Instead, you alternate running and walking. The first week it’s something simple like one minute of jogging with 90 seconds of walking to follow. This week I’ve just finished, I’m up to 3 minutes of jogging at a time. The next step is  5 minutes.

It eases you into the discipline of running, building your confidence and your muscles at the same time.

And I wonder why we don’t adopt this model in our spiritual lives.

Why do we tell people they must spend 30 minutes or an hour in “quiet time” with God, or insist they read at least a chapter of the Bible daily? Why do we tout the benefits of lengthy prayer times or multiple days of fasting?

Maybe not all spiritual communities are like this, but I don’t remember much in my years of following Christ being said about easing into this new way of living. Spirituality, for someone who is new to it, takes as much training and getting used to as running does to someone who has been on the couch for too many years.

If we wouldn’t pull a sedentary person off the couch and throw them into a marathon, why would we tell someone new to walking with Christ that they must be spiritually strong? Or why would we assume that spiritual practices come easy to everyone who calls themselves a Christian? Not all humans excel at running. It certainly doesn’t come easy to me.

In this, too, we need grace. For ourselves and each other.

—

Back to the “shoulds.”

I should be reading my Bible every day.

I should be praying more intentionally.

I should be at church whenever the doors are open.

I should be reading my kids Bible stories at night.

I should pray before meals.

I should memorize Scripture.

I should trust God all the time and not worry or doubt or have questions.

These are the shoulds that keep me out of the race. (And there’s a whole lot of “should nots” that would take up another entire post.)  When I compare myself to these standards, I want to quit the race altogether. If I believed I could only call myself a runner if I entered a marathon, I would sit on the couch all the rest of my days.

What if instead of focusing on the shoulds, I, instead, faced the reality of where I am and figured out a plan to get where I want to be?

I want to pray more, so I’ll start with five minutes every other day.

I want to know Scripture better, so I’ll start with one verse.

I want to hear God, so I’ll start with one minute of silence.

And when those steps cease to become challenging, I’ll add to it.

That’s how I know when I’m ready for the next step in the running program. If it no longer feels like a challenge, then I’m ready to move on, until that one no longer feels like a challenge, and someday, months from now, I’ll be further along than I thought was possible.

Whether it’s running or praying or helping my neighbor, it matters less to me how much I’m doing than that I am doing.

I’m no longer in it to win it, whatever that means. I’m just in it, period.

Don’t worry about winning the race when you’ve only just begun. Just get in the race. Get off the couch or out of the pew or into a situation that isn’t warm and cozy.

Do the next step. Build your spiritual muscles. See where it leads.

And when you get further along the path, remember the person behind you who is starting off slow and cheer them on for being in the race at all.