Ode to Running

Oh, running, how I hate thee. 

You make me sick. Literally. You make me do dumb things, like sign up for races and pay money to suffer. You are a time-sucker and a tease. Luring me in with your easy low mileage runs, then throwing down the hammer on long distances. You’ve painted my toenails the color of death, made my body hurt in places I didn’t know existed, transformed me into a ridiculous collector of bargain-priced Brooks running shoes, forced my nose to run faster than my legs, and made me believe I’m having a heart attack. 

No, that’s just severally deflated lungs trying to re-inflate in a rather excruciating way, you say. No need to worry. Yet. 

In pursuit of ringing that finish line PR bell, you’ve dragged my protesting body out of bed on sleepy Saturday mornings. And yet, somehow, when I don’t have time for you, you make me miss you. So cruel. Just like how you cause my body to forget all our time together when I skip a week or month with you. While cake is over here forcing my body to remember it forever. Why can’t you be more like cake? 

Oh, but running, how I love thee.

You were a therapist through tragedy. You invited me to leave worry, fear, and stress out there on the roads like a trail of dust lifting heavenward. You’ve allowed me to see God’s creation in many incredible forms. Bald eagles, bunnies, turtles, hawks, deer, snakes, colors of spring and fall, snow on the ground and in my eyelashes, hailstones, and rainbows. 

You’ve reminded me that I am incapable, small, and weak, while pointing me to the Giver of strength. You’ve brought to mind those who would give anything to walk, much less run. You encourage me to get out there for them. You are a time-giver and friend. You provide moments to think, to zone out, to listen, and to pray. You’ve made me grateful.

But most of all, dear running, you’ve reminded me that I run a bigger race. One that I am to run with endurance. But not on my own and not without help. Forgetting what lies behind and pressing on toward the goal. Because all the fanfare of these earthly finish lines have nothing on the one I’ll be crossing someday. 

Bells, my friend. Glorious bells.

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