Sittin' This One Out

"I am not a runner" 

Is something I use to say all the time. 

So, four years ago when I started running and ran my first 1/4 mile I was beside myself. I remember slowing to a walk as Mike and I were close to our house, I was victorious and mad all at the same time. I'm not sure why I was mad other than all those endorphin's were pumping through my body and I was gasping for air and it was the hardest thing I had physically ever done, and for some reason that makes me mad! As soon as I caught my breathe my mood changed drastically and I was flying high because I felt more accomplished than I ever imagined. I'm still only talking about a mile or maybe two but it was hard and took every ounce of intestinal fortitude I had. Then before I knew it, I could go on a four mile run and (some days) feel like a gazelle.

I ran my first race and thought my heart was going to explode in that home stretch, and when it was done I felt AWESOME! I was hooked. I had experienced what they call the "runners high". And in 2012 I ran four 1/2 marathons. That may not seem like a big deal to some, but to me it was a very big deal because I was doing something I had always believed I wasn't cut out for and couldn't physically do. I felt amazing and after any run whether short or long I found clarity in this crazy mind of jumbled thoughts. 

Some of my greatest epiphanies have been during a race when I'm so tired I have nothing left to think about other than the really deep things. And on those days that I just wanna scream or cry, I feel like a new woman after a little run in the fresh air. 

None of it was ever easy though and many times I cried out to God in the middle of a race asking for the strength to get me through. It took dedication, time, sweat and perseverance... ya know, all that fun stuff! Although I was always making progress and getting better. 

Then, last year it all came screeching to a halt when I hyper extended my knee. It wasn't a dramatic "Oh my goodness I just hurt myself kind of thing". But I definitely knew something was wrong. After a full year of healing I gradually began increasing my miles and was so happy to be able to run again. 

Only to have it come to a halt once again when I hurt my "good" knee on a measly little run in Guatemala. Humbling to say the least. And discouraging to finally be experiencing the release of stress through running again just to be slowed down to a painful limping walk. 

I write about all of this because one very important thing has been on my mind as I have been walking and healing once again. And it is this, 

I am no less of a person if I never run another race in my whole life! 

Yes, the discovery these last few years was amazing and I learned so much from pushing myself physically and reaching down deep. Thinking that I truly was going to die at mile 12 and then actually crossing the finish line to hear the crowds cheer. It's pretty much a "Top of the World" experience!

If I never experience that again, IT'S OKAY! I'm OKAY!

I've been limping, and icing and stretching and going to appointments remaining hopeful to still do the 1/2 marathon I'm registered for (1 month away). There has been much planning and anticipation for it. A girls weekend and road trip, driving with a close friend to meet up with my sister and have a great race together. And while that's understandable to be disappointed in not getting to follow through with our plans, I believe it goes much deeper.

It is humbling to be weak and admit that I can't do something. It is devastating to be out on a walk in town and have fellow runners run by you and not even notice you, and even harder to lose your outlet for stress through running. 

But despite all of that, it doesn't change that I'm still God's masterpiece, whether I run or not. When I start to doubt my self worth and get down on myself, then I must look to the root problem and acknowledge what may seem like an elementary lesson... yes, He still loves me!

My self worth is not wrapped up in how many miles I ran today or my pace or what races I'm doing this year. Sure, it's empowering and encouraging when you PR or do something you thought physically impossible. But what happens if circumstances change or our bodies fail us or... (fill in the blank), then what? Do we believe the lie that we are no longer victorious? Or do we feel less than because we can't keep up with our friends? 

If there is any lesson to take away from this silly little injury it would be that it's okay to be humbled (although it hurts) and it's also okay to say, "I need to sit this one out" and not think less of myself because of it. 



(I also must add that two very understanding and amazing friends/sisters helped in my decision process and permission to cut myself some slack.)