Monday, September 27, 2010

30 Days of Blogging, Day 23: Something you wish you had done

One thing I wish I had done is start running sooner than I did.  I played a lot of sports when I was younger--softball, volleyball, basketball.  When I got to junior high, though, it quickly became apparent that some girls were much more serious about sports than I was.  I'd always just had fun with whatever I was doing.  So I stopped playing sports after volleyball season in 8th grade, and after that I didn't do much of anything physical.  I took the occasional aerobics class in high school and college, but that's about it.  I always had friends who'd run for fitness purposes, but it never occurred to me that I might do this. 

Flash forward about 30 years, more or less.  I've taken my daughter and two other girls from our church to a weekend Advent retreat at a local church camp.  During free time, one of our options is to hike up to the cross that overlooks the campsite.  This is what the girls want to do, and they beg me to come along.  I'm from Idaho; what's in front of me is not a mountain, not even close to a mountain.  It's a hill.  A steep hill, but a hill nonetheless.  So I say fine, we'll do the hike.  When I say this, it does not occur to me that I haven't climbed either a mountain or a hill in a very long time.  Like, 30 years, more or less.

Halfway up the hill--maybe not even halfway, actually--I start to realize that I'm in big trouble.  My legs and shaking and my heart is beating faster than I think it's ever beaten before.  I can just barely breathe.  But there's no way to give up and go back down the hill, because we're hiking in a line.  Also, I don't want to abandon the girls.  So I keep climbing, and I start praying, and I make it to the top of the hill.  This is when I start considering that I might have to tell the counselors who've led us up here that I can't make the climb back down, because my heart is really racing and I really can't breathe.  I have visions of being taken down the hill by EMS people, on a stretcher, wearing an oxygen mask.  I can't do that to these girls, though.  I can't scare them that way.  And I certainly can't have the camp director calling their parents and saying Please come pick up your daughter.  The chaperone from your church was too fat and out of shape to make it through the weekend. 

So I say a very earnest prayer:  God, please get me down off this hill.  I know I'm too young to be this out of shape. But I swear, if you get me down off this mountain, I will change.  I have to be able to get these girls back to their parents.  Please, God, just let me get these girls back home and I'll do better.

And somehow, when it was time to start hiking again, I got down the hill.  I fell once, because my legs were weak and shaky, but I made it back to the campsite.  And when I got back home, later that day, I told my husband what had happened and started looking for a treadmill.  I didn't want to be able to make any excuses--rain, heat, whatever.  I wanted to hold up my end of the bargain, since God had taken care of me when I asked for help.

At first, I could barely walk a mile on the treadmill.  That's how out of shape I was.  It's humiliating to think about this now, but it's true.  Before too long, though, I'd moved up to two miles.  Then, as I was trying to improve my speed, it suddenly occurred to me:  maybe I could run.  I had never, ever thought of myself as a runner, so I really wasn't sure if this was something I could do.  I started off very slowly, holding on to the arm rails of the treadmill while I ran.  When I gained a little confidence, I let go.  Then I kicked up the speed.

Now I love running.  I love the way I feel after a good run, tired but full of energy at the same time.  I love the way deep breathing clears out your brain, and the way an endorphin rush just lifts off the top of your skull.  When I'm in a good routine and running several times a week, I feel really powerful.  Like I could run anywhere.  I'm not competitive about it--I don't run 5ks, and I didn't join the team my university put together for the upcoming Rock-n-Roll half marathon--because I'm hard on myself, generally speaking, and I know I'd start feeling bad about running if I didn't do as well as others.  That's why I don't run with a partner, either.

This is something I do for myself.  And for God, of course.  I just wish I'd started sooner.     

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