If you know me, you won’t find this post hard to believe at all.
In fact, you probably already saw it coming. From miles away (pun intended).
It’s that post I couldn’t bring myself to write a few days ago, when the feelings were a little more raw & a little more real. That post I’ve been scripting over and over in my head, writing and erasing writing and erasing, because I wanted it to come out right. Not just okay, but right.
And there’s a lot I want to say. There’s a lot I want to say about pain and hurting and endurance and joy and accountability and trust and running. There’s a lot I want to say, and I just don’t know if I have the right words to say it. But here goes… bear with me.
Oh, running. You’ve thrown me for a loop the past couple months. You’ve shifted everything. From my views of fitness to the deep appreciation I now have for the sunrise, and sunset. You’ve tested and challenged my muscles, my endurance. Physically, mentally, spiritually, you’ve done me in. You’ve taught me valuable lessons about hard work and goal setting and dream chasing. And about community building.
You congratulate me after long runs, amazed and in disbelief that my body could even come close to running 10 miles all at once. And then you tell me to keep going, to reach for more, to pick up seed. To run again, the next day, and the next.
But my muscles just weren’t having it. And a few days ago, they hit one of those crap, it’s a brick wall kind of moments. One of those moments where you know deep, deep inside that the last thing you should be doing is running for a while, but your heart is still screaming & yearning to hit the pavement again. Ugh, that heart. You’re a little bit addicted. You’re jealous of the morning joggers that pass you on your morning walk to work. You think, why can’t my body be healthy again? What did I do to deserve this pain?
You didn’t take care of your body properly, that’s what. You’ve been learning lessons, of course, but you were missing some of the important ones. Or just ignoring them. Some of the ones that teach you about the importance of stretching, of rest, of restoration. Of listening to your body. Not just listening to the part that’s telling you how much it longs to run, but the part that’s warning you to slow down for a few days.
So I’m stepping back. Trading miles for yoga poses. And praying (oh-please-oh-please) that all is healed in a matter of days. But if not, I’ll just keep listening to my body. And I’m making that promise here because I know that if I don’t write it down, I’ll never keep myself accountable. And I’ll keep pushing. Pushing too hard, and too fast. Because that’s what I do. That’s me. I’ll trade balance for excellence, just because it seems more worthy, more glamorous, more exciting. Even though I know it hurts.
But none of us can run on empty. It just isn’t possible, and it definitely isn’t right. So I’m giving myself a hard lesson in balance this week. And patience. And peace. And most importantly, prayer.
Now, to learn. And to trust that when I do hit the pavement again, I’ll be rested and ready to run.
Balance, patience, peace, prayer….. balance, patience, peace, prayer….. balance, patience, peace, prayer…. balance, patience, peace, prayer….. my lullaby.