The Long Run

So here's the thing: I don't run. 

I mean, I have run. I ran a couple of 5ks two years ago, and then I retired my running shoes because they seemed overwhelmed by the whole thing. Plus my legs hurt, but it was really the shoes. Seriously.

I love the idea of running. It seems super "I'm striving to be a good steward of my body" without being pretentious. The reality of running is where I get stuck. I don't think that God really designed my muscles for running. 

If you remember when Michael Phelps was the rage, you may recall the human interest pieces describing the ways that his body was made to swim. Ridiculously long arms and wide hands combined with double jointed ankles and short legs make him the picture of an ideal competitive swimmer.

I'm a lot like that when it comes to running, except the opposite. I have what I call "inverted bow legs". Other people call it "knobby knees", but what it comes down to is that my weight rests on my knees more than my feet. I tend to pull my thigh muscles really easily. 

But then we went to Disney during a runDisney weekend, and everyone seemed really happy about it. I mean, if you're going to run, it makes sense to run with Disney princesses cheering you on. While at the airport, we heard two women talking about participating in the Glass Slipper Challenge. It requires participants to run a 10k on Friday and then a half marathon on Saturday. That's just under 20 miles. And these two chicks seemed really happy about it.

I want to be happy, too.

So I decided to give it a go. It's about a year off, and there are tons of local runs ranging from 5k to a half marathon in the fall. I can do that, right? It also seems like a good opportunity to become friends with some real runners in the area. That can't be a bad thing.

Thanks to two talkative women in an airport with three highly conspicuous medals around their necks, I now have this on my wall next to my bed:

Writing a book was a very educational experience. The biggest thing that it taught me was the value of the long run. There are some things that just take time and vision. There are some things that are really hard and challenging, and they require constant refocusing. They may not bring the results that you hope, but the process -the run itself- is undeniably valuable.

I don't know if I'll actually make it to the big race at the bottom of my sheet. I don't know if I'll even make it to the half marathon, but I'm in it for the long run.

And if it all works out, there may just be someone who decides to do something crazy because they hear me talking in an airport. That would be pretty cool, right?