There was a time, hundreds and hundreds of weeks ago, when running one block was unspeakable to me. I was the girl who nearly failed P.E. in junior high because I couldn't (ahem, refused to) run around the track. Running was not my thing at all.
Then, I graduated from law school, started practicing law, and became depressed over a guy. Basically, I turned into a hermit. If I wasn't in front of the computer doing legal research or writing a three-hundred-page brief, I was in front of the computer playing solitaire and agonizing over my lost love. It was a sad time.
Looking back, it took awhile for me to get out of that rabbit hole of regret and self-pity. It took me a long time to be able to leave work at the office because I felt like always being on the clock was what I needed to do to be a lawyer. I thought it was what I needed to do to keep my heart from completely shattering. But, it didn't work. I was still heartbroken, and on top of it exhausted to the point of burn out. When you're at that stage, everything in life becomes sort of a mess, too. I was making poor decisions in my personal life, and physically, an eighty year old had more energy than I did at thirty-one. After a fractured toe-incident, and then, one bad, unhealthy rebound relationship after another, I had to do something.
I went to church.
But honestly, I didn't go to church because I thought I needed God. I went to church because my brother had just become a pastor and I wanted to be supportive. It was the something I had to do. Then, my brother started leading a Young Professionals ministry group. And I joined because again, I wanted to be supportive. The something I could do.
Later, however, I found myself looking forward to our Thursday night Bible studies and the all-night talk-a-thon with my sister-in-law afterwards. I started going to church not because of my brother, but because I wanted to hear the gospel.
Then, somewhere during that time, the idea of running was spoken aloud. It may have been a conversation about participating in a 5K run, and I thought, I want to do it. Honestly, a tiny part of me may have decided to sign up because the guy I was depressed over was a runner. Maybe it was a way to feel close to him. Regardless, running clicked in my head and I did it. Horribly, at first. It took me over an hour to finish that 5K run.
But, running did something to me. As I learned to breathe and pace myself, as I got to know my gait, I became more present with my body and mind. I would run at the tracks of my old high school while listening to worship music and talking to God. Last year I trained for my first half-marathon and I realized during my training that my rescue out of the rabbit hole of misery didn't start with my run, but with prayer. Running was the tool that God provided to help and teach me how to appreciate the moment with each breath that I take. He reminded me that I have a lot to be grateful for and I couldn't waste away feeling sorry for myself or punishing myself for a past that was long gone.
I've come to learn that God speaks to us in different ways. When we don't listen one way, he finds another to get our attention. God also answers our prayers in ways that we sometimes don't understand or don't even realize. God gave this non-runner, this former-running-hater, the ability and desire to run. And through running, I got to spend time with Him. I learned to be in the moment.
