I’ve started running again.
I hesitate to mention this in such a public forum which gives it an almost official status, because I’m not sure Running and I have reached that place in our relationship yet.
I also hesitate to use the word again which conveys the impression that I have ever been a serious runner. To be clear, I use the word in the manner of saying, “I have run before.” Which is not a lie.
Sometimes I run to a meeting when I am late. I will often run to the kitchen during a commercial break. Just this morning, I ran to the bathroom. So I do run, but I would not say I am a runner. There is a difference.
All that to say I am giving Running another try. And I realized something on my run today. (Does that last sentence make me sound like a runner?)
The path is not always smooth. Brilliant, right?
I run on roads (there is no sidewalk option on my side of town), and as I turned a corner I decided to venture off the road and onto the gravelly surface. It was a “short cut.” I shaved 1.25 seconds off my run.
I quickly noticed there were some dangerous potholes which I was able to avoid with my catlike, Barry Sanders’ moves. This was also not too difficult since I was
running jogging at a pretty moderate pace.
The light bulb was that when I run I have an expectancy the path will not make running more difficult or cause an injury. The run itself is hard enough on my body. (I really am a big baby.) The road should not be an additional obstacle to overcome.
I think sometimes I approach life in the same way, but life comes with no such guarantee. We should not be thrown off course when our course is disrupted. We should not complain or be surprised or become obsessed with life’s potholes. Everybody has them. Just get out there and keep running.
Jesus never promised us a smooth ride. But He did tell He is with us and for us. And I believe He meant that would be enough.
Another thing I realized on my run was that thinking about what I could write on my blog dramatically lessened the constant ache running produces. But eventually the pain comes back, and you realize you’re very far from your house and about 3 seconds away from a heart attack.
Then I hit what runners so happily refer to as “the wall.”
At this point, my
jog crawl still resembled a running motion, but I was going slower than most 90-year-olds with walkers. So I decided was forced to walk. I eventually made it home.
I can’t wait to do this again in two days.
Has God ever spoken to you on a run? What’d He say?