I ran track in high school, and I hated it. Everyday I went to practice, trudged through the drills, and sweated off the Laffy Taffy and Coke calories that I’d consumed earlier in the day. In the two years my name was listed on the team roster, I ran in two track meets. I never lettered and I never won any great races. The payoff? I never had to take PE my junior and senior year. For a high school girl with perfectly coiffed 80’s hair that was important.
After 20 years, I decided to give running a try again. Not because I remembered those high school spring practice afternoons with fondness, but because I simply couldn’t let “running” beat me. My mind — and my legs and lungs — continually reminded me I could never be a runner, much less now that I was 40-ish years old. Being one to always face a challenge, I decided I was going to start running and make it a hobby in my “old age.” I made a plan — which is what one always does when needed to rise to a challenge — and I started running.
After six months, I was running 3 and 4 miles at a time! Better yet, I was enjoying it. (If only my track buddies could see me now.) I relish in the quiet moments and mental clarity that running brings me. I treasure the fresh air and scenery that passes me as I tick off the miles. Most of all, I cherish the lessons I’ve learned as my feet steadily beat the path before me. Lessons of physical endurance and strength, and also lessons that paralleled my walk with God.
So in becoming a runner in the physical sense, I’ve become stronger runner in the spiritual sense. God has taken these moments of solitude and physical exertion to teach me. Maybe my decision to become a runner was God’s gentle nudging to get some alone time with me. Check out these links below, to see what God has taught me on our running “dates.”