Yesterday I went for what I thought was a walk. I was praying as I usually do as Sam chattered from the stroller. Then:
"Why don't you run?"
Clear as day. I inside my head. Along with a compelling need to do as I was asked.
So I did.
I jogged until my breath was squeezed from my lungs. Then I walked. Then the voice, again:
"Why don't you run?"
I bet you can guess what I did then. I jogged some more. Then walked.
And so on.
And I made it 4.5 miles in 70 minutes. I can hear all of you runners making a little joke in your head. Yeah, I know...it's slow. Turtle time.
But for me, it was a huge victory. I actually jogged.
The feeling was one of exhiliration. I didn't die. I wasn't even damaged or injured.
And I felt incredible.
And this morning, I did it again.
This time I started out jogging, taking only a few breaks to walk.
Everytime I wanted to give up, I got strength to go a little bit further. To push a little bit longer. To breathe deeper and dig deeper.
And I did 4.5 miles in 50 minutes.
50 MINUTES!
THAT JUST HAPPENED!
I sat down afterward as Sam snoozed in the stroller. I sat in the sun on a bench overlooking the pond, and I cried. I called out to God in a voice filled with wonder and gratitude.
"Lord, I ran!"
"I know."
"No really, Lord...I RAN! For 4.5 miles. Just like I had prayed for for so long!"
"Remember, your dreams are MY dreams."
And then I just cried harder.
I doubted myself, and I doubted my God. I was ashamed of this body He gave me. I cursed it.
And then, this body carried me into a run.
This body carried me through miles. My lungs stretched to accomadate my drive, my heart beat hard and true to take me father than I thought possible. My legs did not tire. I did not collapse.
I ran. I ran into the dream that I had had for so long. And God ran beside me, step for step.
