To the 10k and back again: A test of character, self discovery, and learning how to begin again.

As some of you may have noticed, I went on a long hiatus from this blog. During that time, I ran a 10k in the spring, which was a huge milestone; however, shortly afterwards my life turned upside down. Life became complicated. The running stopped. The thrill was lost -- but not for good!

The intention of this blog post is not to focus on the tailspin of last year's journey, but instead, weave a tale of charting a path, setting sail, being knocked off course, and getting back up again. Never let the rocks of life sink your ship! Sometimes, you just have to get up and stop drowning in your own defeat, patch the hole, and start over again.

As I rode the high of self accomplishment from finishing several 5k races, breaking personal best records, and finally conquering the 10k, I felt unstoppable. I was healthy. I felt strong and fit for the first time in years. Stress from my work situation that plagued me for months was not great but it was tolerable. At least I had running, which was an excellent distraction and tension reliever. My sails were full of wind, and I was quickly making progress toward achieving a half marathon which I never dreamed was possible.

Unfortunately, as we all know, life has a way of changing our plans. My ship found itself in the midst of a storm and was mercilessly thrown against the rocks of life. I hooked the rocks so sharply that they ensnared me for months, nearly drowning me beneath the fury of the surrounding waves. Shortly after completing the 10k, I came down with a terrible flu which was followed by a severe case of bronchitis. The illnesses effectively forced me out of the running world for a good two months. Also, the stress of my difficult job finally drained me physically and caused anxiety problems and heart issues. My doctor told me to slow down, make some changes, and take care of myself -- so I did!

Step 1: Be paralyzed in the fact that you lost your way, struck rocks, and are sinking. If you find yourself on the same journey, skip this step. Everyone will hit rocks eventually. I was stuck on the rocks of pity and sorrow for far too long. Finally, with a lot of prayer to a God who is faithful and is forgiving of His children for being self reliant and hard headed, He helped me through the first step of re-charting my map, setting new goals, and getting the ol' ship sailing again.

Step 2: Patch the hole. When I finally realized I was quickly going nowhere by being angry with the Father about the whole "life is unfair" situation, I began the first step of recovery. I patched the holes. I finally listened to God who promised to hear my cries and relied on Him for relief (Psalm 6:8,9). He began the process of hole patching and healed me spiritually. Next, I took care of myself and patched the self worth and attitude-needs-an-adjustment holes in my ship. I shed all responsibilities except for the most necessary ones unapologetically; and, as a person who constantly worries about making others happy, this was probably the hardest step. I changed jobs to one with less demands. Finally, every hole was patched; I could finally start bailing water.

Step 3: Sail again. Okay, maybe this was the hardest step. I mentioned above that I took a forced two month hiatus from running. Well, two months became five months as I struggled with my physical heart issues; but after the stressful life situations settled down, my heart problems lessened. There were no more excuses except that sometimes starting over simply seems overwhelming. When a runner stops running for as long as I did, it's a sure thing that there is no way to pick it back up and immediately run a 10k again; but I mentally prepared myself for that reality.

My first run in September was barely a mile. It was a hard, laborious, painful mile. I was discouraged, but God hadn't helped me patch the holes in my ship just to sink again. I kept going. One mile became a mile and a half. Two miles was fairly easy. Three miles was much harder than two but was reachable. Four miles kicked my backside, but I awoke the next day realizing it hadn't killed me. Five miles looked as scary as a ship in winter navigating around icebergs. I prayed. God gave me strength. The five miles came and went. Surprise! I didn't sink.

Step 4: Learn sometimes the journey matters more than finding the buried treasure at the end of the map. Seriously. Finding joy and contentment in the midst of the journey is the most important discovery you can make. Always chasing happiness and money and always being dissatisfied with your place in life will only lead to a life of tired, ship sinking failure.

I'm still trying to learn how to rely on God more than myself for things I need and don't understand. I'm learning that money doesn't do you any good if the job that supplies it sucks away all of your joy. Most importantly, I'm learning to be satisfied with where I am in life, achieve the small goals before me, and know that I will reach that half marathon eventually, if that goal indeed is part of the journey.

My message is simple. Ask for directions before you chart your map. Sail. If you lose your way, look to the Father for guidance. He already knows where you're going anyway. Patch holes. Bail water. Sail again.

Key scripture for the path of sailing (or running) on your journey:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him and He will make your paths straight." - Proverbs 3:5,6

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." - Isaiah 41:10

The Journey Ahead

Almost there.  I passed four miles.  I can visualize the five and a half mile marker in my head. My body is weary. My mind is playing tricks. I long to quit. It would be so easy to just stop, but then I reached four and a half miles. Still the mind games continue. I can't do this. I can do this. I don't want to do this. My legs hurt, and my feet are tired.

I think upon my life verse, “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God”, 1 Corinthians 10:31.  Okay, I can do this, I thought. I MUST do this. Then I passed five miles.

I see the finish line in front of me, but it's still far away. My mind tells me I'll never make it, but I can't quit now. A second burst of energy floods through my veins as I get closer to the finish. A little further. Almost there.

Finally, the distance tracker application on my smartphone states the news I've been dying to hear, “Five and a half miles.” I made it! Suddenly, I feel like I could run forever. All the “I can'ts”, “I won'ts”, and “I'm not good enoughs” melt away. I'm hooked, and this is only the beginning. I can do anything when I'm running with a lion's heart. Philippians 4:13

Welcome to my blog. Anyone who has started running as a hobby, for weight loss, or personal well being is probably familiar with the common challenges that affect new runners. My intention for this blog is to inspire new runners not give up by sharing tales of woe, trials, and successes on my journey to complete a half marathon and beyond.

More to come next week...

Humble Beginnings

Some people are born athletes.  Some people are not.  I'm pretty sure I fall in the “not” category.  As a child, there were many non-athletic words which described me: underweight, average height, awkward, shy, frequently cold and allergy plagued, and accident prone. 

I hated physical education classes, and spent the majority of my elementary and middle school years strategically planning ways to avoid mandatory athletic activities.  My all-time favorite avoidance maneuvers included: volunteering to be in the outfield for softball games, which ensured as little contact with the ball as necessary; guarding other non-athletic girls in basketball; standing behind the most competitive girls in volleyball, virtually guaranteeing the ball and I would never meet; and being the first one struck out during dodge ball or tag tournaments, allowing me to safely watch from the sidelines for the rest of class.

As a young college student, I lived a happy sedentary life.  Required physical activities were a distant nightmare of my awkward past.  Sports were something other people did, and I vowed to keep it that way. 

I was the shining example for all vow keepers until I met my husband during one fateful summer during my college years.  Yes, honey, if you’re reading this, I’m blaming you for aiding and abetting with my vow breaking! 

In middle school and high school, my husband ran cross country and participated in track events.  He was athletic, intelligent, and a confident runner.  By the time he reached his college years, he only ran for his own enjoyment.

The concept of running for pleasure was new to me.  I met this man who I considered intelligent, yet he was clearly crazy.  Who runs for fun?  Up to this point, I had always followed the principle of “one should only run if on fire.”  Of course, you know how we are when we are young and in love.  We do irresponsible things in the name of love like break vows and become athletic.

The first act of vow breaking occurred on a hot summer evening at a popular park north of town.  My husband convinced me it would be fun to go for a nature run down a deceptively beautiful one mile trail.  Again, due to the young, dumb love thing, I suppose, I agreed to go on the run and threw on my inappropriate running gear: my not-so-sporty bra, an oversized t-shirt, a pair of shorts, ill-fitted bargain running shoes, and cotton socks.

We started down the trail, and I quickly realized a few things immediately.  First, things were bouncing on my body that did not appreciate being jostled.  Second, one mile is really long and difficult for someone who is out of shape from gaining the dreaded "freshman 15" and who has no training.  About halfway through the run, I found myself gasping for air and limping like a three legged gazelle trying to outrun a cheetah.  Other runners, walkers, and bikers smirked and giggled at my pitiful attempt to finish the trail.

You would think such an experience would cause a person to never again dare to attempt a second run, but young love does funny things.