Months ago my friend and I excitedly signed up for a 15K spring race. We began training, both looking forward to warmer spring weather, excited for race day, sure it would filled with sun and spring and fun.
Fast forward several months and suddenly it’s race week, and as I look at the forecast there is snow… lots of snow… and wind… really strong wind… and cold cold temperatures (and I do not run outside if it's under 52º and no wind). My anxiety starts to rise, and I allow it to start to consume me.
I start to worry about traveling conditions getting there. I start to obsess over my performance. I am already feeling unprepared and undertrained going in. I haven’t done much outdoor running because the weather has been so cold for so long this spring. Even through I always say I never really have a finish goal time - deep inside of course I know I do. Truth be told, I’ve set my race day goal weight and my goal race finish time long ago. Without wind and snow I was already worrying about not achieving this secret inner goal (because of course I’m not really a “real” runner) - add a forecast that belongs in mid January and not mid April, and it’s leaving me stewing in a recipe for absolutely self sabotage and falling apart.
As my anxiety rises, so does my reality and angst at myself because I know better than to place my identity on a starting number on a scale and an ending number on my garmin gps watch. I know I know better, and yet here I am completely flailing around amid an inner drama over things I’m not in control of.
Never enough. I am never enough - at least for myself I have never allowed myself to be enough. I try with manic obsession to try control everything I can within me - my willpower, my strength, my determination, my performance. And when I’m grappling with failing that which I’ve been working so hard to achieve (because of course I’m actually not in control of any of that), mix in that which I know I have absolutely no control over - such as the weather, the wind, the elevation and terrain of the running course, and the seven thousand other runners registered that will be surrounding me (have I mentioned I’m an introvert, get sightly claustrophobic in large crowds, and don’t actually consider myself to be an athlete)… It is all starting to become a tornado-like force of flying debris and shrapnel within me.
I begin to wonder if I need to start looking for a paper bag to do some deep breathing into.
As I sat there attempting to corral the utter chaos within me, a silent voice simply whispered… “It doesn’t matter.” I doesn’t matter ~ I know it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to anyone, but myself. No on else really cares if I run or walk the entire course. No one really cares if I weigh in heavier that I want, or finish slower than I want. It doesn’t matter to anyone, but myself. Yes, I have people in my life who love and support me and want the best for me - but they are not the ones placing the expectations that I have set for myself within my own mind. They are there to love me and support me and celebrate me - no matter how I do, how I finish, or if I even finish at all. They love me for who I am, not for what I achieve. Why do I have such a hard time granting this same thing to myself?
Grace Race.
I breathe in and close my eyes. Grace Race. I need to allow this to simply be a grace race. A race that I allow whatever happens to just… happen. I need to allow myself the grace to open my tightly clinched fists and let it go - all of it. The expectations, the hopes, the goals, the validation, the obsession, the perfection… I am not in control of any of this, and wrestling with myself like I am is only causing angst... no peace, no joy, no excitement.
I read my devotions.
Acts 3:
2 “Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. 3 When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. 4 Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, “Look at us!” 5 So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.
6 Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” 7 Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong. 8 He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God. 9 When all the people saw him walking and praising God, 10 they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate called Beautiful, and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.”
I’ve heard this story so many times before. And yet I sat there, still, and silent. “Walking, and jumping, and praising God.” And I thought of that season three years ago when I was sick, and even as I think of those moments in bed, of being so tired and worn and utterly broken - and I’m struck with the reality of how little a time that actually was. I was not born lame and unable to walk. I was not in an accident and confined to a wheelchair for the last twenty-eight years of my life. I was merely inconvenienced for a short time, with a very brief taste of a sickness in need of healing. I carried a sick child which needed healing, which was not granted, but in time, my physical healing was granted. My body did slowly begin to heal, my soul slowly did begin to mend and mold into something different, something better, something greater I could have imagined.
I have been again granted the great ability to walk, and jump, and praise God. And run… I was granted a desire to not just walk - but to run. To train, to become healthier, stronger, wiser, both inside and out. I realize I am far far from fully healed, but God absolutely has granted me a gift of “more.” I got the gift of being given a second chance - more grace, more hope, more love, more time to live and share and witness. And here I am fretting over a frivolous pace in a silly little race. Humbling.
Acts 3
16 "By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus’ name and the faith that comes through him that has completely healed him… "
It was my faith in Jesus, finally found through the loss of our Faith MaryJo, that finally began to give me strength and healing. Physical strength, mental strength, spiritual strength.
And that is one of the large reasons I began to run, began to sign up and train for an occasional race now and again, because I could. Because I could and it was a small way to show my gratitude and honor and praise to God through it.
So, here it is race week, and things are spiraling out of my control. Things which really never were even in my control to begin with, but satan merely keeps whispering that in fact they are… while helping me feel lost in my own worth, and my own expectations, when that is not actually the case. But I’m addicted to his lies, his deceit, his ways of turning myself on myself and against God. It has got to stop.
My body has been allowed, at least for this season, to know healing and health. I can breath, I can walk, and I can even run. My heart, and lungs, my mind and my will, my arms and my legs, my feet and my toes have been allowed this season to know strength and a little stamina. I am fully aware of the reality and the magnitude and significance of this.
It doesn’t matter if I run the entire race course. It doesn’t matter if I walk the entire race course. It doesn’t matter if I don’t even finish it, or start it for that matter. What does matter is that I recognize the gift I have been given, and not take it for granted. I need to remain true to the story and journey God has currently placed me on, for reasons entirely unknown to me, and I need to simply get up, and praise God at the temple gate called Beautiful.
And this week that “gate called Beautiful" will have the name of Allstate Hot Chocolate 15K, and I will go, and I will walk, and jump, and praise God… and I may even run. And that Allstate Hot Chocolate race is sponsoring the Make A Wish Foundation - a percentage of all our registrations go to gift families with sick kiddos a fantastic gift of a trip together to a location of their wish. And it also just so happens that my next door neighbors are leaving today to Florida with their daughter on her Make A Wish trip. Those are the little things that become the big things, and one more reason to do this.
Yes, it's a running race, and I've tried to train to run it - but, I might not run it, I might allow myself the grace (and safety) to just walk. I have decided this is simply going to be a Grace Race. I will open my hands and let go of all fantom control I think I’m holding on to but actually not. I will give myself the grace to go in with zero expectations. I won’t weigh, I won’t count points, I won’t obsess about me vs everyone else also there, I won’t beat myself up anymore before, during, or after it. I will get there and just go with it, let it all come what may.
Yes, this is going to be my Grace Race. Deep inside I know none of it honestly matters to anyone but me, and deep inside I also know I will not be any less, or any more, of a person if and when I cross the start and finish lines of this one particular moment in time. A moment in time I have been gifted and granted, through my faith and my healing, and I merely want to faithfully praise God and witness by joyfully arriving at the gate of Beautiful ready to walk, run, jump, and simply praise Him on high as gleefully and joy-filled as I possibly can.
Yes, may this be a Grace Race. Bring it on. Bring on the memories, bring on the friendship, bring on a mom weekend away, bring on my praise and witness to the One who has granted me this gift.
As my anxiety rises, so does my reality and angst at myself because I know better than to place my identity on a starting number on a scale and an ending number on my garmin gps watch. I know I know better, and yet here I am completely flailing around amid an inner drama over things I’m not in control of.
Things I am not in control over.
The very core to the entire issue. Control. Performance. Perfection. Those things I have spent my entire life battling for, chasing after, racing towards, and never reaching, never winning, never actually accomplishing.
Never enough. I am never enough - at least for myself I have never allowed myself to be enough. I try with manic obsession to try control everything I can within me - my willpower, my strength, my determination, my performance. And when I’m grappling with failing that which I’ve been working so hard to achieve (because of course I’m actually not in control of any of that), mix in that which I know I have absolutely no control over - such as the weather, the wind, the elevation and terrain of the running course, and the seven thousand other runners registered that will be surrounding me (have I mentioned I’m an introvert, get sightly claustrophobic in large crowds, and don’t actually consider myself to be an athlete)… It is all starting to become a tornado-like force of flying debris and shrapnel within me.
I begin to wonder if I need to start looking for a paper bag to do some deep breathing into.
As I sat there attempting to corral the utter chaos within me, a silent voice simply whispered… “It doesn’t matter.” I doesn’t matter ~ I know it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to anyone, but myself. No on else really cares if I run or walk the entire course. No one really cares if I weigh in heavier that I want, or finish slower than I want. It doesn’t matter to anyone, but myself. Yes, I have people in my life who love and support me and want the best for me - but they are not the ones placing the expectations that I have set for myself within my own mind. They are there to love me and support me and celebrate me - no matter how I do, how I finish, or if I even finish at all. They love me for who I am, not for what I achieve. Why do I have such a hard time granting this same thing to myself?
I need to let it go… and for some reason that can just be so hard. I need to let. it. go.
Grace Race.
I breathe in and close my eyes. Grace Race. I need to allow this to simply be a grace race. A race that I allow whatever happens to just… happen. I need to allow myself the grace to open my tightly clinched fists and let it go - all of it. The expectations, the hopes, the goals, the validation, the obsession, the perfection… I am not in control of any of this, and wrestling with myself like I am is only causing angst... no peace, no joy, no excitement.
I read my devotions.
Acts 3:
2 “Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. 3 When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. 4 Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, “Look at us!” 5 So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.
6 Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.” 7 Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong. 8 He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God. 9 When all the people saw him walking and praising God, 10 they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate called Beautiful, and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.”
I’ve heard this story so many times before. And yet I sat there, still, and silent. “Walking, and jumping, and praising God.” And I thought of that season three years ago when I was sick, and even as I think of those moments in bed, of being so tired and worn and utterly broken - and I’m struck with the reality of how little a time that actually was. I was not born lame and unable to walk. I was not in an accident and confined to a wheelchair for the last twenty-eight years of my life. I was merely inconvenienced for a short time, with a very brief taste of a sickness in need of healing. I carried a sick child which needed healing, which was not granted, but in time, my physical healing was granted. My body did slowly begin to heal, my soul slowly did begin to mend and mold into something different, something better, something greater I could have imagined.
I have been again granted the great ability to walk, and jump, and praise God. And run… I was granted a desire to not just walk - but to run. To train, to become healthier, stronger, wiser, both inside and out. I realize I am far far from fully healed, but God absolutely has granted me a gift of “more.” I got the gift of being given a second chance - more grace, more hope, more love, more time to live and share and witness. And here I am fretting over a frivolous pace in a silly little race. Humbling.
Acts 3
16 "By faith in the name of Jesus, this man whom you see and know was made strong. It is Jesus’ name and the faith that comes through him that has completely healed him… "
It was my faith in Jesus, finally found through the loss of our Faith MaryJo, that finally began to give me strength and healing. Physical strength, mental strength, spiritual strength.
And that is one of the large reasons I began to run, began to sign up and train for an occasional race now and again, because I could. Because I could and it was a small way to show my gratitude and honor and praise to God through it.
So, here it is race week, and things are spiraling out of my control. Things which really never were even in my control to begin with, but satan merely keeps whispering that in fact they are… while helping me feel lost in my own worth, and my own expectations, when that is not actually the case. But I’m addicted to his lies, his deceit, his ways of turning myself on myself and against God. It has got to stop.
My body has been allowed, at least for this season, to know healing and health. I can breath, I can walk, and I can even run. My heart, and lungs, my mind and my will, my arms and my legs, my feet and my toes have been allowed this season to know strength and a little stamina. I am fully aware of the reality and the magnitude and significance of this.
It doesn’t matter if I run the entire race course. It doesn’t matter if I walk the entire race course. It doesn’t matter if I don’t even finish it, or start it for that matter. What does matter is that I recognize the gift I have been given, and not take it for granted. I need to remain true to the story and journey God has currently placed me on, for reasons entirely unknown to me, and I need to simply get up, and praise God at the temple gate called Beautiful.
And this week that “gate called Beautiful" will have the name of Allstate Hot Chocolate 15K, and I will go, and I will walk, and jump, and praise God… and I may even run. And that Allstate Hot Chocolate race is sponsoring the Make A Wish Foundation - a percentage of all our registrations go to gift families with sick kiddos a fantastic gift of a trip together to a location of their wish. And it also just so happens that my next door neighbors are leaving today to Florida with their daughter on her Make A Wish trip. Those are the little things that become the big things, and one more reason to do this.
Yes, it's a running race, and I've tried to train to run it - but, I might not run it, I might allow myself the grace (and safety) to just walk. I have decided this is simply going to be a Grace Race. I will open my hands and let go of all fantom control I think I’m holding on to but actually not. I will give myself the grace to go in with zero expectations. I won’t weigh, I won’t count points, I won’t obsess about me vs everyone else also there, I won’t beat myself up anymore before, during, or after it. I will get there and just go with it, let it all come what may.
Yes, this is going to be my Grace Race. Deep inside I know none of it honestly matters to anyone but me, and deep inside I also know I will not be any less, or any more, of a person if and when I cross the start and finish lines of this one particular moment in time. A moment in time I have been gifted and granted, through my faith and my healing, and I merely want to faithfully praise God and witness by joyfully arriving at the gate of Beautiful ready to walk, run, jump, and simply praise Him on high as gleefully and joy-filled as I possibly can.
Yes, may this be a Grace Race. Bring it on. Bring on the memories, bring on the friendship, bring on a mom weekend away, bring on my praise and witness to the One who has granted me this gift.
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