Tuesday, July 27, 2010


I am not a runner. My most dreaded day in all of middle school was the mile run. Wow- what a horrible experience. Worst than the last slow dance in the middle school gym and finding yourself standing alone. Worse than the time I got hundred on my algebra final and the teacher had to point it out...to ...the ...whole....class.

The Mile. My gym teacher would line us all up. With her dreaded stop watch she would scream go. And we all went. Of course we all started by sprinting. This was middle school of course and the goal is to always stay with the crowd. Then we would have people (like me) slowly dropping out to walk. Feeling like your heart was about to be ripped from your chest and being absolutely certain you are going to die. When the "fast" girls would hit the finish line, my gym teacher called out their time. She also had a garbage bag positioned right by the finish line so the girls could puke. Seriously. Is it any wonder I was in the middle....at the end. And it was ever so embarrassing to have your TIME screamed into the field. Nice....I am sure that would not be allowed with today's privacy laws! ;)

I was so happy to get to high school where there was no mile. Oh wait. There was the cross country training. And swimming. Oh, co-ed swimming. shudder.....

I never liked running. Never. When I wanted to get in shape (AKA I had a baby) I joined Curves. I watched what I ate. I rode a bike. I went for 3 mile walks. I did not run. That, my friends, was akin to torture.

And one day I lost my mind. I thought, hey, maybe I should try running. Keep in mind, I had just had my 4th child and was in worse shape than my grandma. Although Grandma Yackuboskey is pretty tough..... I got to thinking about the heart disease that was raging in my family and frankly I don't want to die. Maybe I should try to get in shape? Be able to climb the stairs without getting winded? Actually lose the baby weight this time?

I got on a treadmill. Something was wrong. Oh yeah! I should probably wear shoes. So I put on my shoes. With socks even. And I ran. For about a minute. I felt the old "I think I am going to die." So I walked for a minute. I continued this for about 20 minutes. Got off soaked in sweat and prayed for the angels to come carry me away. The next day I hurt. But I got back on the treadmill.

I am taking a class on motivation. It is centering on reading, however I find it interesting that I can apply it to my running. Today I ran for 30 straight minutes outside and only had two mini stops. That is a great accomplishment for this non-runner. I was motivated by my desire to make a commitment and stick to it. By my desire to prove that I can do something I thought I never could. My desire to do it was bigger than the fear telling me I couldn't.

Did I think I could do it? Nope. Did I want to stop? You bet ya. My legs were screaming at me and my lungs.... But I thought to myself "you can do this. Just think about the end. Think about how proud you will be." Every time my legs were aching and I gave my self permission to stop, I couldn't. I knew I had to do it. I had to keep going. So I did. And I made it home.

Sometimes things in life seem so impossible. How will I ever..... But we do. We put on our running shoes and do it. Can we stop? Sure. Should we? Absolutely not. Because the pain we are feeling now will be nothing when we get to that final victory. That feeling of "I overcame that." We give up too easily. If something is hard we quit. I don't want to quit. I want to do it.

"In a race all the runners take part in it, but only one of them wins the prize. Run, then, in such a way as to win the prize. Every athlete in training submits to strict discipline; he does so in order to be crowned with a wreath that will not last; but we do it for one that will last forever." 1 corth 9:24-25

And while I am certainly no marathon runner, tonight I was a runner. With cute pink shoes and a new MP3 player!

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