Thursday, April 21, 2011

feet to the pavement

Hope you all take my words with a grain of salt. I'm just some Jesus-loving ragamuffin trying to figure things out, nothing more.

I've been training for the Peace Corps marathon for many weeks at this point. My last run was the 12-miler, a big mark for me. Not only was it the longest run I've ever accomplished, but I did it in Sincape which is hilly when I've been training on flat ground. The view was stunning. I could see the rolling hills in the early morning hours every time I reached a peak. The hills were not as hard to take as I had anticipated. I finished it in 1 hour 25 minutes, a very good time for my abilities. But for the last 5 or so days since that run, I have been limping around in pain, walking like an old person. I should probably be stretching more, running more intensely throughout the week. I could take my speed up a notch or two. Truthfully, if I did all of those things, I probably wouldn't be training in the first place.

I'm a girl that once said, "why run unless someone is chasing you?". It dumbfounds me how I'm even here. The question doesn't just apply to running, but my life. How did this girl from Texas, raised by Lloyd and Gina get here: in Peru, running 'til I'm limping, living with people who are often overlooked and left to themselves, here with a heart for Jesus and deep desires for things that have been said to be far from him. My faith, my walk with Christ, me trying to do what is best and helpful with this life of mine is a lot like training for this marathon. I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing. It sure seems a lot easier to do when I'm just thinking about it. On paper, decisions are easy. I know what is best, where I should go, what I should do. I felt like I had it pretty much figured out. Peace Corps. Possibly get married with grand signals from the heavens to tell me who. Go to seminary in Denver. Move to Guadalajara or some place like it. Start an intentional community. I'm not sure if you all can relate to those kinds of feelings of certainty. It is kind humbling when possibilities get more complicated.

I'm reading "The Last Lecture", a book about a professor who participated in the last lecture series as if he was going to die, but this professor actually was going to die. I found myself thinking the other day about what I would want to have done when I die. I started a prayer to God. "I just hope that I can say I sacrificed enough". Before I could say the word sacrifice, I could feel God interrupt my prayer with a verse from Matthew: "I desire mercy, not sacrifice".

I get so stressed out about every step I take in life, so completely crippled by the fear of screwing up. I almost quit training for the marathon for the same reason. The first week, I had to walk within the first mile. I ended my runs so very angry at myself, beating myself up for not looking like Dani or Carolyn when they ran. (These girls were doing 10 miles before the real schedule even started.) My fat legs rubbed together. I was breathing heavy almost immediately, feeling pain in my side. I felt God asking me over and over again "why are you doing this?" It echoed in my head over and over. "Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this?" When my answer became about improving me for me and not for others, my runs got easier. I let myself walk when I needed to. I cut the runs during the week when necessary and took the long runs easy.

It was when I started to think of my runs in terms of who I am, finding my stride, that I actually could say that I was a twelve mile runner. Running isn't easy. When I do it, it certainly isn't pretty. In fact, I usually start out wobbly and limping. But that Lord is reminding me that it is about doing it. My running and my faith aren't theoretical. They aren't comfortable ideas that I can simply imagine working well it my head. But my feet are on the pavement. I'm doing it. And that is the only way I'm going to be able to do anything.

P.S. This blog is being written in the lovely city of Chachapoyas. So incredibly beautiful. I'm not sure there would have been a better way for God to show us how great we are loved than this earth we've been given and the people we enjoy it with. If you come to Peru, you should definitely check out Chachapoyas, aka the poor man's Machu Picchu.

1 comment:

michelle said...

running. poorly. and slowly.
much more slowly than you.
speaks all kinds of things into my soul too.
keep going.
what i tell myself on a long run, if i can still breathe i can still run.