So in 7th grade I remember we had to do some Fitness Test that included running a mile. Being the ever chubby girl (which now I look back and realize it wasn't that I was chubby it was just that I wasn't as stick thin as the other girls.) my goal was to NOT come in last, because that would be too embarrassing. (Thank God for Bill, the chubby boy who always came in last.) As I ran up the gravel hill of our small Christian school I distinctly remember thinking that I was going to die or that my lungs must be bleeding inside. I hated every second of that run! The only thing that kept me going was refusing to come in after Bill. My fondness for running has not changed much. I have had brief moments of wanting to run. To love the feeling of being able to run and pound out the stresses of life but a love of running has never developed.
In fact a few weeks ago I was thrilled to be able to WALK two miles in 35 minutes. Not run but walk! I am so out of shape (well, I have a shape but it's not the one I want) that I am celebrating walking! I have a long way to go. But anyway, a friend (an awesome friend who happens to be a personal trainer and has set me on the right track) told me and our church about a charity 5K for the Crisis Pregnancy Center and invited us all to participate. Now, they also had a 1K Walk but for some reason I thought I could handle walking the 5K. Which I know I could have....walked it that is.
So the race begins and a sweet friend who has promised to stay by my side the whole way starts off running with everyone and I'm like ok here we go. Within seconds, everyone is gone except for a few of us stragglers. Then slowly even other stragglers are getting farther and farther away from us. Dads pushing strollers who started after us have now passed us and I realize....Crap! I am going to have to run this thing! My thought going into this was that I would just walk it but no, I was going to have to run.
And run I did. I whined the entire first mile. Convinced that they had forgotten to mark the first mile. Declared that Lent sucks several times. Wondered what the hell I was doing out there and trying to figure out how to get out of this. I got angry when I saw my marathon running friend heading back in the opposite direction before I was even halfway finished...after all, somehow this was all his fault. Around mile 2 I looked at my friend and told her not to mind me as I was was about to have an emotional spiritual moment. It was then that I began crying (although no actual tears came out as I was sweating so much and desperate for a drink of water I was all out of juice.) Crying because I wanted to quit so badly but I knew I couldn't. I realized that worse than coming in last was not finishing at all. I knew that my family- not just Rob and the kids but Da Funk would be waiting for me. I realized that even though I did not believe in myself they believed in me and I could not quit! I began praying and rehearsing in my mind the things Father God had spoken to me during Lent. How He called me to a healthier freer life. A life richer and bigger than I could imagine.
My sister and I have a joke about the fact that she can never live up to my parents' expectations and the fact that I can't ever fail because they have no expectations of me. We tease each other about not knowing which is worse. The bar was never set high for me. I didn't have many options laid out before me other than ministry. I have had to come to a place of forgiving my parents for limiting my future and be thankful for the opportunities I have had. But I realized as I ran that I had to finish because my family, my Da Funk family, expected me to. They believed I could do this and that was what carried me on. This dieting and exercising is about WAY much more than my body and so much more about becoming free from low expectations and walking into the life I was designed to live.
So, off we ran. I eventually told my friend to go on without me. I knew I was holding her back and I hated that. She ran on, but never so far off that I couldn't catch up. The second half of the second mile I heard a noise behind me and I realized it was the police car slowly following me as I was so far behind everyone he was wrapping things up. I have to admit the thought of keeping all those police officers out there longer than necessary made me run faster.... plus I was slightly afraid he would accidentally run me over.
As we came up on mile 3 my friend waited for me as we came upon the man with the bullhorn announcing that everyone was waiting for us. (Was that supposed to be helpful?!) So I dug deep and I ran the last bit where I was joined first by my husband and kids and then by my two accountability partners who cheered and ran with me across the first of many finish lines.
I did it. I didn't quit.
Dead last is better than never starting at all, right?
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| Ecclesia Clear Lake had a great showing! |
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| These friends keep me on track! |
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| The dads who passed us up very early on! |
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