11 years. I've been running for 11 years, that is half my life. What started out as a sport in 6th grade has become my metaphor for life. Some say life is like a race, but that is not what I'm saying. Life is like running.
I have good days in running, I have bad days in running. There are days where I jump out of bed to run and days where I roll over and punch the snooze button one more time. Some days are easy, some days I just get through, and some days are hard. There are days when I get that runner's high and feel as if I could run forever. My feet are light as feathers and my lungs just drink in the air. Then there are days where my arms pump and my legs turn over in a mechanical mindless sort of way. On the rough days my abdomen pinches, my head pounds, and my shoes seem to be super-glued down.
As I run the scenery is constantly changing around me. The seasons bring rain, wind, sunshine, snow, heat, and cold. The ground beneath my feet is hard, mushy, or dusty. The path ahead is flat, hilly, smooth, uneven, or full of obstacles. Sometimes the path winds out of sight and I can hardly see where I am going, other times it stretches straight before me going on for miles and miles. Every now and then I come to a split or intersection in the path and I have to choose which way to go. I don't know what each path will be like, whether it will be an easy downhill or a rocky curving climb.
Sometimes I run with other people. Our paths will cross and for a time I have someone to share my scenery and path. Someone to boost me forward and encourage me when I don't feel so great. Sometimes I run alone. Sometimes for a short time, and sometimes for miles.
The days are easy or difficult depending on how I feel, the path, the scenery around me, and if I'm running with others. Some days I can run fast with light feet on the flat, gravel roads, chatting with a friend, under the clear blue skies. Other days it is a bit slower taking all I have to face the pelting rain alone on the puddle covered roads with the cold air stinging my lungs. Fast or slow I still run on.
Occasionally, there have been times where I slow down and even stop. I am injured and the pain so great I cannot move forward. The path is perilous, rocky, and I cannot see what is before me. The pain pierces me and I am a crumpled heap in the path grasping at my injury. I am alone. In time I will crawl, stand up, walk, and even run. How long it will take I don't know, each injury is different. But I do know I will run again, I always do . . . no matter the path, the scenery, how I feel, or who I am with . . . I press on (Philippians 3:12-14, 4:11-13).
Mileage to add: 11 running and 4.5 other
No comments:
Post a Comment