After years of wanting to do it, years of trying and failing previously, and months and months of current hard work and training, I ran a half marathon. I logged that glorious 13.1 in my personal databank of accomplishments today.
Granted, it was just me - I was the sole organizer and only registrant of this particular “Dash Through Dawn” Half Marathon at Round Lake, MN. There was no strategic water stations, there was no sponsored shirts with logos, no fancy start / finish line, no crack of the gun followed by slight pandemonium. There was no cheering fans along the sidelines, there was no friends and family there to watch, cheer, witness, high five and hug me at the finish. There was no 13.1 sticker handed to me to proudly display on the back of my minivan. But… in my mind, this was no different than if I had waited one more day, gotten in my car at 3am tomorrow morning, attempted to find my way to South Dakota by myself (let’s just say I am not a good driver), to run in the “official” Brooking’s Half Marathon with my friend whom I’ve been training with. But, my husband gave me the gift of today by myself at the lake, my most favorite place, and this was actually the day I had decided long ago would be the day. I wrested in my mind if this would really count as an “official” half marathon or not… but I finally came to the mindset that it is… for me - it is. And that’s who I did it for, me. So please, don’t anyone try discredit this actual accomplishment of mine - because I’ll be honest, I’m going to simply turn around and ask you what you chose to do today at 5am. I’m fairly certain it did not contain the completion of 13.1 miles. Just let me have my moment and “run with it” (pun entirely intended). ;-)
Granted, I’m only about two hours post accomplishment, so I shouldn’t even be allowed on my laptop yet… it’s kind of like being drunk in public - it’s probably a little dangerous for me to attempt to blog about this experience while still lost somewhere in the aftermath of excitement and exhaustion, still dangling on a few of the tingly post high brain endorphins.
But I did it. I DID IT. No one else could accomplish this single accomplishment for me other than myself. Sure, I needed lots of prayers, support and encouragement along the way, and I’m so grateful for all those in my life who are celebrating with me right now from afar… but ultimately it came down to my brain, my desire, my body, my training, my endurance. My mind over my matter.
For me this journey has been entirely personal, entirely between me and God. It’s been a personal fight through my pain and bitterness, me embracing my hard, a celebration of all that I have made it through, a marking of the health I have been restored and granted after losing Faith two years ago, and a grand “HA HA!” in the face of satan who gave a valiant attempt to smother me with all his lies and insecurities.
Well, today - today was the day months and months ago I penciled on my calendar with the number 13.1. Today was the day I showed up. I ran. I conquered. I even beat the time I had hoped to finish in by almost a minute a mile less. It was just me and God out there mile after mile after mile. I fought each and every step, each and every mile from start to finish. I talked to myself, I talked to God, I refused to acknowledge satan, and I refused to stop until I reached the end.
I watched the dawn awake, I watched the sky turn from black to pink, to orange, to purple as the sun rose over the small, shallow Illinois Lake. I watched deer lapping at waters edge, bounding through the field in front of me. I watched the first rays of sunlight stretch and illuminate miles of black earth, tinged gold and freshly turned, tilled, planted with infant rootless seeds deep within the rows. I watched the grey pavement stretch for miles and miles in front, behind, and next to me. I dashed through dawn at one of my most favorite places in life, at one of my favorite times of day, and I intentionally experienced all of God’s goodnesses around me and within me as my heart beat, my lungs pulled in the cool air over and over, my muscles all moved together in a sacred harmony, my will warred against my mind to continue forward. I pushed myself. I pushed hard. It was just as mentally demanding as it was physically demanding, perhaps even more so.
When I finally reached the end… I smiled, I almost cried… and I said “Well, I guess I no longer have a reason to say I’m NOT a “real” runner anymore.” I have no more excuses, no more internal lies to listen to. I am officially a "real" runner. And you know what, I have officially been a "real" runner for years now… I just never wanted to allow myself to own that prestigious title. Other people are better athletes, faster runners, more graceful, more accomplished. Other people grew up recognized athletes on school sports teams, I did not. I was an unpopular, borderline chubby, artsy-fartsy one that always erred on the side of slightly rebellious. I was never one that actually got in a lot of trouble growing up, but I was around it, I was drawn to it, I was often associated with it. Athleticism does not course through my blood.
But here’s the thing I’ve discovered about running - it’s all personal. It’s all yourself against your demons. It’s you finding Jesus and it’s you fighting your satan’s. At least that’s what it is for me. It may have initially started out a way to merely burn as many calories as possible in the shortest amount of time possible as I struggled through obsessive weight and eating disorder issues earlier on in my life. But somewhere recently, it moved beyond that. It moved beyond the number of calories burned, and it moved into something healing, something spiritual, something personal, something celebratory. After going through a great season of sickness and loss, it is amazing how life’s perspective can change, if you allow it.
You can wallow in bitterness… Lord knows I sure did for while… but it can also be a turning point for great change and gratitude. And that is where I am at today. God allow my body to be my worst enemy for much of my life, or that is how I chose to view it, as I trudged through year after year of infertility. I was at war with my body because it didn’t look and perform exactly like I thought it should, and it wouldn’t grant me my greatest desires of more children. And then, when that single desire was finally granted, my body allowed the creation of that little miracle to be filled with sickness, a disease that would leave her in Jesus’s arms before her mamas arms.
I walked around angry and bitter at my body for years. I lay in bed with a sick body for months and months while I was pregnant with a dying baby at age forty. My body would have to give birth to a stillborn child. My body failed me over and over again, and I blamed it and I hated it, and ultimately, I did not take very good care of it, because I didn’t really care for it.
I completely missed the fact that my body was still allowing me life, and breath, and joy in abundance. I’ve spent most of my life allowing myself to focus solely on all I wasn’t, instead of all that I was, all that I could still be.
It would take over a year and a half before my body would finally be physically healed enough after that devastating sickness and loss before I could actually consider starting to move forward to try heal my head, my heart, my very soul. Last October as I drove away from the lake that last weekend of the season, I finally realized I needed to embrace my health and start treating my body with the respect and love that it needed, so in turn, I could start to view myself with the respect and love I needed to, to start moving forward beyond my loss, beyond my pain, beyond my personal vendetta against life in general.
It has been a crazy journey that I have been on. Am still on. Will continue to be on until the day I wake up in Heaven. But today God has granted me life, and it’s a good life, a really good life. A life far better than I deserve. God has restored my health, at least for the current moment. I am grateful, I am humble, and I have decided to finally work on loving myself, without guilt, and celebrating all that is currently good in my life and just run with it.
It’s time to embrace it and live life to the fullest in the here and now, while I am healthy and strong. This time and season may (and will) pass, my journey may (and will) take more twists and turns, I have no idea what lies ahead on my currently still invisible future timeline of life. I hopefully have many more tomorrows left to go, many more moments and memories yet to create share.
“Oh may I throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles me. May I run with perseverance the race marked out for me, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and and perfecter of faith.” ~Hebrews 12:1-2
Granted, it was just me - I was the sole organizer and only registrant of this particular “Dash Through Dawn” Half Marathon at Round Lake, MN. There was no strategic water stations, there was no sponsored shirts with logos, no fancy start / finish line, no crack of the gun followed by slight pandemonium. There was no cheering fans along the sidelines, there was no friends and family there to watch, cheer, witness, high five and hug me at the finish. There was no 13.1 sticker handed to me to proudly display on the back of my minivan. But… in my mind, this was no different than if I had waited one more day, gotten in my car at 3am tomorrow morning, attempted to find my way to South Dakota by myself (let’s just say I am not a good driver), to run in the “official” Brooking’s Half Marathon with my friend whom I’ve been training with. But, my husband gave me the gift of today by myself at the lake, my most favorite place, and this was actually the day I had decided long ago would be the day. I wrested in my mind if this would really count as an “official” half marathon or not… but I finally came to the mindset that it is… for me - it is. And that’s who I did it for, me. So please, don’t anyone try discredit this actual accomplishment of mine - because I’ll be honest, I’m going to simply turn around and ask you what you chose to do today at 5am. I’m fairly certain it did not contain the completion of 13.1 miles. Just let me have my moment and “run with it” (pun entirely intended). ;-)
Granted, I’m only about two hours post accomplishment, so I shouldn’t even be allowed on my laptop yet… it’s kind of like being drunk in public - it’s probably a little dangerous for me to attempt to blog about this experience while still lost somewhere in the aftermath of excitement and exhaustion, still dangling on a few of the tingly post high brain endorphins.
But I did it. I DID IT. No one else could accomplish this single accomplishment for me other than myself. Sure, I needed lots of prayers, support and encouragement along the way, and I’m so grateful for all those in my life who are celebrating with me right now from afar… but ultimately it came down to my brain, my desire, my body, my training, my endurance. My mind over my matter.
For me this journey has been entirely personal, entirely between me and God. It’s been a personal fight through my pain and bitterness, me embracing my hard, a celebration of all that I have made it through, a marking of the health I have been restored and granted after losing Faith two years ago, and a grand “HA HA!” in the face of satan who gave a valiant attempt to smother me with all his lies and insecurities.
Well, today - today was the day months and months ago I penciled on my calendar with the number 13.1. Today was the day I showed up. I ran. I conquered. I even beat the time I had hoped to finish in by almost a minute a mile less. It was just me and God out there mile after mile after mile. I fought each and every step, each and every mile from start to finish. I talked to myself, I talked to God, I refused to acknowledge satan, and I refused to stop until I reached the end.
I watched the dawn awake, I watched the sky turn from black to pink, to orange, to purple as the sun rose over the small, shallow Illinois Lake. I watched deer lapping at waters edge, bounding through the field in front of me. I watched the first rays of sunlight stretch and illuminate miles of black earth, tinged gold and freshly turned, tilled, planted with infant rootless seeds deep within the rows. I watched the grey pavement stretch for miles and miles in front, behind, and next to me. I dashed through dawn at one of my most favorite places in life, at one of my favorite times of day, and I intentionally experienced all of God’s goodnesses around me and within me as my heart beat, my lungs pulled in the cool air over and over, my muscles all moved together in a sacred harmony, my will warred against my mind to continue forward. I pushed myself. I pushed hard. It was just as mentally demanding as it was physically demanding, perhaps even more so.
When I finally reached the end… I smiled, I almost cried… and I said “Well, I guess I no longer have a reason to say I’m NOT a “real” runner anymore.” I have no more excuses, no more internal lies to listen to. I am officially a "real" runner. And you know what, I have officially been a "real" runner for years now… I just never wanted to allow myself to own that prestigious title. Other people are better athletes, faster runners, more graceful, more accomplished. Other people grew up recognized athletes on school sports teams, I did not. I was an unpopular, borderline chubby, artsy-fartsy one that always erred on the side of slightly rebellious. I was never one that actually got in a lot of trouble growing up, but I was around it, I was drawn to it, I was often associated with it. Athleticism does not course through my blood.
But here’s the thing I’ve discovered about running - it’s all personal. It’s all yourself against your demons. It’s you finding Jesus and it’s you fighting your satan’s. At least that’s what it is for me. It may have initially started out a way to merely burn as many calories as possible in the shortest amount of time possible as I struggled through obsessive weight and eating disorder issues earlier on in my life. But somewhere recently, it moved beyond that. It moved beyond the number of calories burned, and it moved into something healing, something spiritual, something personal, something celebratory. After going through a great season of sickness and loss, it is amazing how life’s perspective can change, if you allow it.
You can wallow in bitterness… Lord knows I sure did for while… but it can also be a turning point for great change and gratitude. And that is where I am at today. God allow my body to be my worst enemy for much of my life, or that is how I chose to view it, as I trudged through year after year of infertility. I was at war with my body because it didn’t look and perform exactly like I thought it should, and it wouldn’t grant me my greatest desires of more children. And then, when that single desire was finally granted, my body allowed the creation of that little miracle to be filled with sickness, a disease that would leave her in Jesus’s arms before her mamas arms.
I walked around angry and bitter at my body for years. I lay in bed with a sick body for months and months while I was pregnant with a dying baby at age forty. My body would have to give birth to a stillborn child. My body failed me over and over again, and I blamed it and I hated it, and ultimately, I did not take very good care of it, because I didn’t really care for it.
I completely missed the fact that my body was still allowing me life, and breath, and joy in abundance. I’ve spent most of my life allowing myself to focus solely on all I wasn’t, instead of all that I was, all that I could still be.
It would take over a year and a half before my body would finally be physically healed enough after that devastating sickness and loss before I could actually consider starting to move forward to try heal my head, my heart, my very soul. Last October as I drove away from the lake that last weekend of the season, I finally realized I needed to embrace my health and start treating my body with the respect and love that it needed, so in turn, I could start to view myself with the respect and love I needed to, to start moving forward beyond my loss, beyond my pain, beyond my personal vendetta against life in general.
It has been a crazy journey that I have been on. Am still on. Will continue to be on until the day I wake up in Heaven. But today God has granted me life, and it’s a good life, a really good life. A life far better than I deserve. God has restored my health, at least for the current moment. I am grateful, I am humble, and I have decided to finally work on loving myself, without guilt, and celebrating all that is currently good in my life and just run with it.
It’s time to embrace it and live life to the fullest in the here and now, while I am healthy and strong. This time and season may (and will) pass, my journey may (and will) take more twists and turns, I have no idea what lies ahead on my currently still invisible future timeline of life. I hopefully have many more tomorrows left to go, many more moments and memories yet to create share.
“Oh may I throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles me. May I run with perseverance the race marked out for me, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and and perfecter of faith.” ~Hebrews 12:1-2
Yes Lord, thank you - and may it be your will that I may have many more miles left to run in my race of life! #runlikethewindbulleye
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