“One of the reasons I love to run is because in it God has given me the gift of contentment.”

I wrote those words five years ago when I came to the realization that running was a precious gift.

I took the gift and learned to welcome its life lessons, hear God’s voice, and take the opportunity to hear my own. I decided to share with you some of the lessons I learned along the way. I created a series of blog posts, two of which I wrote a couple of years ago on this very blog (you can find them here and here).

But about a year and a half ago, I began to realize that running had turned into something it was not meant to be and had become a burden instead of a place of joy and contentment. I stopped embracing it as a gift. Sadly, my running came to a halting stop, and I soon learned the hardest lesson of all.

Before I share that story with you, I’ve decided to wake up some of my old posts. I washed them up a little and combed their hair, because after rousing them, I realized I needed to make them more presentable.

Come, lace up, and travel back with me to the road I once ran.

 

The one place I learned to embrace contentment  

June, 2013

A few weeks ago, I signed up for and participated in an 8K race. It was the first race I have been in for four and a half years. It was a very exciting day for me, as this was a formal occasion to be re-inducted into the world of running and racing. My previous stint with running was not a long one or a grandiose one, but it was one that I missed nonetheless. This race was a token and proof that even though I was four years older and 15 pounds heavier, I still had it in me to train, push to the end of myself, and go out there and do my best.

It was a perfect day for a race–warm enough to wear shorts and a t-shirt, but cool enough not to be burning up after two minutes of running. It was partly cloudy–and just windy enough to cool down and be ready to put on a light jacket a few minutes after finishing. My favorite kind of day to run.

Once my adrenaline kicked in during the first mile and I settled into a comfortable pace, I stayed behind a woman that I felt like I could keep up with. I was feeling pretty good about myself because although she was considerably older than me, she seemed to look very fit. Her physique made me think that perhaps she had run right out of her mother’s womb, and some day when she was done, she would run right into her casket. I wanted to follow close behind her; this would motivate me to keep pushing past those Texas-sized hills.

As soon as we reached the turnaround point, I got an unexpected second wind when I realized that those uphill paths would now become downhill sprints. I took off with great confidence and passed my gray-haired friend with fierce determination. As I did, I clearly heard her cheer, “Way to go! You’ve got this!” Her kind words and friendliness put an extra bounce in my step and a new wind in my sails.

But about a mile before the finish line, my bounce began to fade and the wind died. I desperately wanted to stop, but as if marching to a rhythmic cadence, I kept chanting to myself: “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”

I didn’t stop, and I finished strong.

As I crossed the finish line, I wasn’t disappointed because those ahead of me had beat me, nor was I was prideful because I had defeated the many whom I left behind. I was happy because I had done my best and run my race well.  

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I have a deep-rooted tendency toward jealousy, and if you are honest with yourself, I bet you do too. The green monster comes out at regular, almost predictable intervals. It shows up at the grocery store, the mall, the hair salon, scrolling through Facebook and Instagram, and even at church. It growls loud when I am feeling fat, ugly, and frumpy. It barks when she looks thin and gorgeous in the super flattering outfit; it bucks its head when my child is defiant and hers obeys immediately with a smile on his face. It pounces violently when I see that her husband is more attentive than mine, or when I see that her friends think she hung the moon.

One of the reasons I love to run is because in it God has given me the gift of contentment. Running is my place of refuge where the green monster is not allowed.

When I run, I don’t care what others think of me. When I run, I don’t run to be faster than the girl next to me, or thinner than the one in front of me. I don’t care what my running clothes look like compared to hers, or what anybody thinks of my pace. When I run, I don’t seek approval. Running is a sacred time for me. It’s where I can push hard without anyone pushing back. It’s where I go till I can go no more without anyone pressuring me to go further. It is where I can show up without anyone expecting anything from me. It’s the one place where I don’t envy, and I don’t want to be envied. I believe that is exactly why God gave me the gift of running: when I run, I learn to embrace contentment.

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I learned a valuable lesson on that perfect spring race day. Jealousy and contentment cannot coexist.

The memory of my senior friend’s encouraging word-offering, a determination to do my best without comparing myself to her or others, and getting a second wind and finishing strong made me want to live my life more like the way I run. I want to embrace contentment and be sheltered from envy.

I’ve learned that running isn’t about winning the race; it’s about running it well. I want to live a life that isn’t about being the best, but living my best.

Life should not be about being the cutest, best dressed “it girl”-it should be about reflecting Christ’s beauty in me in whatever way he has equipped me to do so. It should not be about having all the friends, but about being a good friend. It should not be about having the best behaved kids or the best marriage; it should be about learning how to love my family well.  

I also want to remember this: there are others running the same race with me. Some will need to follow my gray hair because it speaks to them and motivates them to keep going. Some will need to be cheered by me as they pass me by.

I want all of us, dear friends, to live in a world that never goes green, one in which we have beautiful women ahead of us to keep us going when the hills get too steep. One in which we have valiant women behind us cheering us on when we get our second winds. I want to live in a world where no matter how old we are, or how many pounds we weigh, or how long it takes us to get to the finish line, there will always be people there cheering us on.

I don’t want to run the race of life filled with pride or fueled by envy. I want to run the race filled with Christ’s Spirit, which gives me confidence, and fueled by His unconditional love, which gives me contentment.

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Let me encourage you to find the gifts in your life that give you great pleasure and contentment. Embrace the sacred places where you can find shelter from your weaknesses, and ask God to teach you there.