So I Do Not Run or Labor for Nothing

I have a new personal goal.

I used to be a runner…not a particularly fast runner, but I was slow and steady and I’d run about 6 or more miles a day. This, of course, was pre-wedding, pre-babies, and pre-6 inches. In between babies, I’d managed to get myself together enough to run 2 or 3 miles without passing out and I was happy with that.

Now, walking up a flight of stairs leaves me breathless and I detest that. When my children can push my box of TPN across the floor faster than I can, I sit up and take notice that I am a weakling.

So, I determined in my heart to do something about this. The swimming isn’t working out too well, since I’m sweaty before I attach my Aqua Guards, they don’t stick the way they’re supposed to. And besides, I’ve never been much of a swimmer; I like to get my exercise by running.

It’s much too hot here in Texas. 108 is a number I keep seeing and wishing I wasn’t. The treadmill Jeff bought me for Christmas broke down right after the 3-month warranty expired and one of those months I was in the hospital and then recovery from a line infection…so I BOO Wal-Mart and its policies. My treadmill sits broken in my bedroom.

However, I have recently discovered that I had access to a gym for the past year, if I’d wanted. Jeff is a seminary student and we are his family. Duh!! I’d forgotten about that. Today was his day off, and after he read and studied, he came back and picked us up and off we headed to Southwestern’s RAC. Jeff took the children to the indoor pool and I braved the treadmill. I had my Camelbak and IPOD.

I started walking, at a not-so-brisk 3.5 and after 5 minutes decided I wanted to see what my body could handle if I tried to run (or jog, in my case). I was inside, the a.c. was blowing, I’d take a sip of my ORS every minute or two, and I set out. Those first few steps felt weird, since I couldn’t remember the last time I’d moved this fast (and I was only at 5.0). By minute 2, I could feel pain somewhere in my chest. I didn’t think it was my heart, so I assumed it was my lungs. Whatever it was burned, and then my legs began to feel wobbly, like a calf first standing up. I almost quit.
But then I started thinking about myself. I am not a quitter. I set a goal to walk 5 minutes, run 5 minutes and then walk the next 20. 30 minutes. I could handle that. Minute 2 was either going to make or break me.

Again, I decided I’m not a quitter. Surely I could force these legs a little further. I scrolled through my music until I found something upbeat, which happened to be a children’s praise song, but hey, it took my mind off my legs. I made it to the 5 minutes and started feeling a little better, so I did what any previous runner would have done. I decided to run 5 more and by the time I’d run 10, I found my groove, so I tacked on a few more and when I got there, I kept pushing my goal up. I found some really jiving upbeat Gospel music (that one of you sent me) and man, I flew (figuratively, of course) through my remaining time until I started feeling a little nauseous from my ORS. That FBC Woodstock really knows how to rock the praises to our God. I walked the last 5 minutes, cooling down my dripping body and made my decision.
I’m a fighter and because of that I’m not going to let this bowel, or lack thereof, steal anything else from me, especially no more of my physical health or aspects of it that I can control. I will do everything within my power (and the grace of Almighty God) to beat this body into the best shape that I possibly can to ensure I give myself no excuses and no flimsy reasons, to fail. If this body fails it will be because that is what God ordained, not because I didn’t take care of myself. I will rest, and I will run. I will drink that nasty ORS and I will eat 6 small (and sometimes medium) meals a day. And I will set goals, small, attainable goals. I’ve decided that I am going to run in races again. I will run in Dallas Baptist University’s 5K Turkey Trot a couple days before Thanksgiving and even if I come in dead last and have to be carried across the finish line or care-flighted to a port-a-potty, I will run every step of the way. And then, in the spring, I will run the Seminary Stride, another 5K. I have determined in my heart and in my mind that I am more than able because I’m not dead. I will lift weights again and I will be strong (not Mrs. Fitness USA or anything), but I will be able to pick up my own box of TPN when it’s delivered!

This mindset of strict discipline and a belief in the impossible stems from what I believe spiritually. I will get off my duff and cross the street to not only speak to the new neighbors we’ve yet to meet, but I will take them the basket of queso/chips/Coke as a welcome gift and I will invite them to church and attempt to ascertain where they are spiritually. Crippling fear for my health, my potential early demise, and rejection of the thing I hold most dear (the hope of eternal life in Christ Jesus) from others no longer has a place in my life.

I am alive, and more than that I am alive in Christ, the author and perfector of my faith. He strengthens me; he upholds me with his righteous right hand, and he will be exalted in my body whether by life or by death (Phil. 1:20). Lord, let me shine like a star in the universe as I hold out your word of life…so that I may boast that I did not run or labor for nothing. (Ephesians 2:15-16)