Oh, come on! they say. Anyone can run.
Yeah, if they are being chased by a foaming lunatic grizzly. Technically, I guess anyone with two legs on swiveling hips CAN run.
But should they?
A friend of mine was like,
Hey, I'm training for a 5k with my son. Want to join us?
If she would have just left my son out of it.
But 10 year old boys really do need time with their mothers and so I was sucked in.
At first the training was fun and I would <seriously> look forward to running in the morning. But then, those were the early weeks of running 60 seconds and then walking for 90. Yes, that was seconds.
Pre-race kiss from Mom
The Big Day came and I didn't do horrible. I guess. 32 minutes was good for me. Or was it 33? I was flaming red, completely wiped out and bummed at myself for not being able to run the whole thing.
But I did it for my son.
And I learned a lot about myself in the process.
Maybe a lot of people would say this about themselves, but I'm more of a sprinter. I know that 3.2 miles is peanuts compared to a marathon, but it sure towers above the 50-yard-dash I remember from middle school.
Lightbulb #1: I'm a good starter. Lots of energy, a smile on my sweaty face. But I usually throw 80% of my energy into the first 20% of the race.
Lightbulb #2: I hate being bad at things. Actually, it's more like, I hate trying so hard at something and not having much to show for my effort. Maybe I just expect things to come easier.
Lightbulb #3: I'm not very patient. Not really a lightbulb since I already knew that. More like a glaring spotlight.
Wait. Was I talking about running or adoption? I'm confusing myself.
This is totally and completely me in this adoption process.
It is very hard to keep up the level of emotional energy I had at the beginning. Is it possible to pace your emotions?
And putting so much time and effort into something for 21 months and not having much to show for it? This also is hard.
A few years ago I prayed for patience. Seriously, it was one of those things I really told God I was desperate for. I might have even said Whatever you have to do, God. Then he gave me a son who doesn't eat. My guess is that I haven't quite gotten the patience thing down yet. Darn.
But the coolest thing about the 5k was running with Jesus. A few years ago I felt Jesus ask me to run with him. What that meant, I didn't know. But I said yes. With wide eyes. Because when Jesus has a twinkle in his eyes, you know it's going to be interesting. So sometimes when I ran, it was like he was my running partner. That was cool.
Training for the race seemed so symbolic of my life. The energy it took, where my focus was, how I wanted to finish the race. And Jesus kept saying, "Keep your eyes on me. Don't think about your screaming lungs or your melting Nikes. Think about Me!"
And it was much sweeter when I did.