Did it!!

While training for my last marathon, I noticed that running wasn't really that much fun anymore. Today, I started on a four mile run. I haven't been training and knew that four would be a difficult run. About two miles in, I was running well and getting very tired. My husband drove past with the kids on their way home from the park. Since my training schedule called for a two mile run, I asked him take me home. I wanted to be done. I'd done what I was supposed to do. Then, I decided not to get in the car. I decided to do something hard, something that I didn't want to do. I'm glad that I did. It was actually fun.

Back in the Saddle, Again. . .

My husband tells me that I am a runner. I tend to argue with him on that point. My running life has been rather on-again, off-again for the last four years, although it wasn't much more committed before that. It seems to me that real runners run, not just read about it or encourage others to do it. This winter, I have set a goal for myself. I am planning to run our local running club's Winter Series, not just the Winter Series, but the Long Series. This morning was my first run after two weeks off to nurse my husband and move. When I left the house, it was clear and cold. I pushed up the hill to get into position to watch the sun come up and ran toward it's blinding rays a few minutes before it tucked in behind the low-hanging clouds that filled the sky. When I first sighted Pike's Peak, it's top was just under the clouds, but as I turned for home, most of the mountain was curtained from view. I soon felt the first wetness on my face, but didn't feel the full force of the wind-driven snow till I started down the hill. I then began to be thankful that I had turned for home when I had. By the time that I walked up the driveway, the snow was being driven sideways past the trees. I was glad to return to the warm house. I've run in snow before, but I have never had the joy of running while watching a storm come in before. It is one experience that I would love to have many more times. Seeing the beauty and power of God's creation on display was a wonderful way to start the day.

I'm not two. . .

When my two-year-old says, "I don' wan to," with a little pout and a stamp of the foot, it is an opportunity to mold her character and teach her about obedience. But, somehow, seeing her do those things, reminds me that I often do the same thing in my own heart. It is amazing how many fights I have with my husband over something that he kindly asks to do for me. Rather than accepting his kindness, I find myself saying, "I don' wan to," in my heart, if not with my mouth. Even worse, I find myself saying the same thing to God. Though I know that God's way is best and that He only sends blessings that are meant to make me stronger, I often don't want what He says is best. I think that I could choose better, and I catch myself stamping my foot and pouting that, "I don't want to," when He sends another challenge. I am the spoiled child refusing to accept the kind correction of the Father that loves me and knows better than I do. So, when I deal with my daughter's heart, may I always remember my own heart and lovingly correct her as my Father does me.

Anne

For several reasons, I started rereading the works of Anne Bradstreet this last week. Though I had read much of her work in college, this time reading it meant more. So many of the fears and struggles that she expressed are ones that I find myself facing. I recognized the fears of my own heart in her poem written before delivering a child. Her questions and conclusions about her faith struck a familiar chord. Her perspective on the suffering in her life, challenged me to keep believing in the goodness of God. In her meditations, she expresses parallels between her daily life and her spiritual life, as I have tried to do here. Reading her work made me feel less lonely. Almost as if she were a kindred spirit that I know only by what I read. As I read her work and feel the blessing of knowing that another has hurt and questioned and believed, I pray that the thoughts that I attempt to capture here will in some small way be a blessing if in no other way than that I will have thought them out more fully and forced them to stand up to the test of logical expression. (At least I hope that it is logical.) I am so thankful that I had the chance to revisit the lovely work of this old friend.

Not a Running Blog

I am beginning again to train for a race. This time, I want to run 13.1 miles. I haven't run a half marathon. It seems like it would be a fun distance, a bit of a stretch, but not all the preparation and agony of the full marathon. Now, I am working out a training plan that will prepare me for the half and take into account my recent sabbatical from the sport. In the last marathon that I trained for and ran, I just put in the miles and gutted through the race with little enjoyment or real engagement. This time, I am attempting to put more effort and focus into each training run. Maybe that is because, I haven't really left myself much time to get ready for this race, or maybe it is because I am investing more meaning in this run than in others. Whatever the reason, I ran with a specific goal today. As a result, I am excited to be training and eager for my next run. I haven't felt that way about running for some time. I kinda like this running thing (again.)

To Be or Not to Be

Asleep or awake, cold or hot, thirsty or satiated, in all of those states, there is a very small line between being in one place or the other. An alarm, a blanket, or a glass of water all can change a person's state in a very short span of time. In just the last few days, I have experienced another change of state. One that is a bit harder for the mind and heart to process. When most women go from being pregnant to not there is reason to rejoice. For our family, that transition is again not one of joy, but one of sorrow. One of the most difficult things about losing a baby in the early weeks is the mental adjustment required. To go from just trying to think through the joy of finding out about the baby to the sorrow of his death causes a real emptiness where there should be a fullness of joy. Suddenly, when I reach to cradle his tiny body in my stomach, I have to remind myself that he is no longer there. Now, when I walk past the maternity clothes at the store, I turn away with tears in my eyes rather than eagerly wondering what new clothes I might need for this pregnancy. There are physical effects of a miscarriage that can be diagnosed and explained, but there are many other emotional effects of losing a baby that aren't confined to the two or three weeks that it takes a body to recover. The event of the miscarrage may be short lived, but it takes a mind and heart awhile to catch up. It will take my mind and heart a long time to catch up.

Pink?

This spring I went with my husband to get a new pair of shoes. I figured that while we were at the running store, I would get my new shoes as well. I always get the same brand and model of shoes. (My foot is rather particular.) They were out of my size and said that they would have them in a few days. When I went back to pick up the shoes, I got a surprise. As she took my credit card, the clerk made a comment that these shoes were very popular because of the color. It was then that I looked at the shoes for the first time. They were pink. Not all pink, but pink in the way that running shoes are any color. I have had many pairs of running shoes, twenty-three years' worth. In all that time, I don't think that I've ever thought about having pink shoes.



For many women, this might have been a pleasant surprise, but I have always had an aversion to pink of any shade. I was especially nervous as my husband has been known to buy me running gear to match my shoes. The ironic thing is that the longer that I have had the shoes, the less the pink bothers me. It is also ironic that due to a series of events, I have been wearing my shoes more but running less, so they have maintained their "new" appearance longer than most of my running shoes. And so, the girl who has always gone out of her way to avoid being girly kind of likes her pretty new pink shoes.