I am a runner. I’m tempted to qualify that with “I use that term loosely.” But I’m going to trust the words expressed here:
Several years ago, I cried my way through the Rock and Roll Half in San Diego. I overtrained because I freaked out at the end…lacking faith in all the hard work I had invested in the process for months. This is no doubt a metaphor in my life. But I finished, with a bum knee nonetheless, I finished.
Ever since then, my relationship with running has been a perpetual, tentative, awkward first date. I’ve managed to complete a couple of 10 milers, but I had to rock back and forth between running and walking–so I don’t count that.
With the passing of my Mom, I have not been as faithful with a healthy eating or exercise routine; I’ve packed on a few “comfort pounds.” In an effort to feel good again, I signed up for some races as some motivation. I’ll do the Snowman Stampede 10 miler as my peak run in February, and then I’ll run the Moab half in March. I can only hope that it is a better experience than San Diego (hear that knees?!)
I run because running is symbolic of life. When I run, sometimes I feel great. Others, it sucks. Still I run. At times when running, I feel surrounded by the company of elite and ordinary athletes alike. Other times, I run in isolation. Still I run. On some runs, I have moments of epiphany and insight that feed my soul. On others, the Spirit is quiet. Still I run. There have been runs where the scenery has left me humbled and breathless and worshipfully distracted. There have also been runs where I could not find the energy or inspiration to lift my eyes up from the tedious pavement. Still I run. On some runs, everything makes sense. On others, nothing does. Still I run. Sometimes I run in the company of a gracious God. Others, I run wondering where He is. Still I run.
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. (1 Corinthians)
I run for a myriad of prizes.
I am a runner.