The Day I Decided Not To Run

I did something this morning I never thought I'd ever do: I decided not to run. And we're not talkin' a normal get-up-and-go-to-the-Y-and-jump-on-the-treadmill kind of run. We're talkin' a half-marathon-that-I-signed-up-and-paid-for-and-drove-all-the-way-to-East-Nash-to-pick-up-my-bib-for kind of run.

In middle school and high school I ran track, which I abruptly quit my junior year for two reasons: 1. I wanted to pursue theatre and 2. my coaches were anything but encouraging. I would go to practice anxious and already discouraged. I didn't fall in love with running until I saw my amazing friend Danielle complete the Chicago Marathon in the fall of 2004. I'll never forget standing next to a man who was cheering his heart out as a beautiful woman came bounding by, screaming out, "That's my wife! That's my wife!" I'm still moved to tears recalling this moment. Witnessing D accomplish her goal, and seeing so many other do the same motivated me and my friend Kristi to train for and run the Cincinnati Flying Pig Half Marathon. We stuck with each other the whole way through, being cheered on by our families and friends. It was an amazing moment, crossing that finish line, knowing that I had completed my first half marathon.

When I moved to California in August of 2005, my friend Sue was a huge encouragement to my running. She was an avid runner herself, and she motivated me to get to the gym or get outside and run, no matter how tired I was due to my heavy work schedule. My pace was slow, but steady, and the more I ran, the faster I became. Seth and I would go for runs together occasionally, and we even completed three more half marathons together. It wasn't until June of 2008 that I ran my first marathon. The San Diego Rock 'n' Roll marathon. My friend Jamie who I worked with at Anthro was also training for it, and we did a handful of our long runs together, with her husband Justin as well. She was quite a bit faster than me, but that only challenged me to dig deeper. Seth met us at various points to give us Gatorade and water, and a couple of times he ran the last mile or two with me. Finishing that marathon was a huge accomplishment for me. I ran the entire thing, and I can distinctly remember how difficult the last 5.2 miles were. I wanted to stop. I wanted to cry. But I kept going. Mind over body, I made it to the finish line.

Still excited at mile 12!

I continued to sign up for races, and run them well. By "well" I mean that I was able to keep a steady pace throughout the race, and finish feeling good. I've never been the fastest - nor will I ever be - but I remember when I was running a 10:30 mile...and I'm now running an 8:00 mile. There have been a couple of races that were a little rocky ::cough cough The Cleveland Experience that I never want to experience again cough cough::, but overall I've really enjoyed this process. Willing your body to do something you never thought would be possible is an amazing feeling.

Cincinnati Flying Pig Marathon 2009
A family affair!!!

San Dieguito Half Marathon 2010

Maui Marathon 2011

However, I think I'm at the point where those feelings of anxiety from high school track are creeping back in. Every race, I'm nervous, but not a healthy kind of nervous. I think, "Oh gosh, what if I don't complete this marathon faster than the last?" "What if I need to walk for a minute?" What if, what if, what if. The worst part is, if I don't finish with a PR every time, I feel a little bit like I failed. So many runners follow a ton of mantras to get them through the race: "Pain is gain." "One mile at a time." "You're tougher than the rest." "Define yourself." Yikes. So if I don't do well, does that define me as a failure??? Being type "A" and a runner is usually a good thing, but in instances like this, it can be pretty detrimental.

Seth and I have endured quite a bit of transition over the past five years, and even in the past few weeks. I've taken on another job, and have found that my schedule is once again full of work, leaving me very little time to spend with my hubby, let alone go for that ever-so-important long run before the big race day. This past summer I signed up for a handful of races, including the Nashville Half Marathon that took place this morning. It was my last long distance race on the books for a while, so initially I was looking forward to it. But with all of the change that's taken place lately, I've been feeling overwhelmed. And while I'll always enjoy a good sweat, I haven't felt excited about the race I was supposed to run this morning. In fact, I was pretty much dreading it. There wasn't any room in my mind to process through the fact that no matter what my finish time was, I should be proud of myself for yet another accomplishment. Bottom line: my heart wasn't in it. I woke up at 5:30 this morning, and sat up in bed. I was worn down, emotionally and physically. I turned to Seth and I told him, "Babe,  I don't think I can do this." While there are people out there who might argue that Seth should have said, "Yes babe, yes you can! You can do this! Let's go!", he listened past my voice and heard my heart and said, "You don't need to do this babe. You can rest." It's almost as if I needed someone to tell me it was okay...to give me permission not to run. It's okay that I didn't want to run. It's okay that I knew my body couldn't handle an early run in the cold. It's okay that I didn't think I could PR. It's okay. I'm not a failure. I'm not a quitter. It's okay.

We slept till our bodies/Bou woke us up, and then we spent time together. We actually went on a run. A slow run through the beautiful streets of our neighborhood. We were able to talk and soak in the morning sun and the changing leaves. Spending that time with my husband was more precious to me than getting another medal. And I'm clinging to that.

Sometimes in life, I think our passions can become our idols if we're not careful. Some might argue that that's okay, but for me it's not. Jesus should be the one I'm making time for before anything else. Jesus is more important than marathon #8. I want to continue pursuing a healthy lifestyle, but I want to be careful that I'm even more protective of my time with the Lord than I am of my precious hour of daily running.

Yes, there will be more races. More half marathons. Probably even more marathons. Hopefully, as I continue to become more like the woman that Christ intends for me to be, I'll be more comfortable with the idea of looking at each race as an opportunity to build endurance and character, rather than a definition of either success or failure. I'm beginning to understand that I can define myself as a runner, and not PR every time, or even run every race. Like today. The day I decided not to run.