Category Archives: A Runner’s Rantings

Recovering to Run

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Awakening after the car accident one of my first questions was, “when can I run again?”  Running is not just something I do, it is very much a part of who I am.  I run for fitness. I run for mental clarity. I run to feed my competitive nature but most importantly I run for the glory of God (see A Runner’s Purpose).  I’m told that I held captive one of my first hospital visitors (sorry Jason) discussing all my upcoming runs.

Running is such a part of my DNA, that I actually carry a “Race Folder”.  It contains print-outs, in chronological order, of upcoming races in my purview.  Prior to the accident I was registered for two races and had two others on the radar; Sights and Sounds 5K, December 3; New Year’s Day Double 5K, January 1; Texas Half, January 28; and the Baylor Bearathon, March 24.  Even in my drugged state I was cognizant enough to realize I’d miss the Sights and Sounds 5K.  Too bad because I REALLY wanted a Santa trophy.  Having just been released from the hospital, I was not well enough yet to participate in that race, but my precious 17 year old daughter, Brittany, stepped up and ran in my place.  Brittany runs a faster mile than I do, but after that mile, she’s done.  My heart swells with pride that she volunteered to run 3.1 miles when I could not.

The New Year’s Day Double is an inaugural event in Allen, Texas, my sister’s current hometown.  She and my niece have been training couch to 5K and I’d suggested an actual race to test their hard work.  We were all registered to run  together. Since running in a titanium halo weighing approximately 15 pounds is a suicide mission, I won’t run this race either.  HOWEVER I am walking in the race.  Race registration included finish time predictions.  I guessed 28 minutes and was placed in the second starting corral.  Knowing I won’t finish in 28 minutes, I emailed the race director requesting a corral change.  I provided all the gory injury details including that I am still in a halo.  It took several days for a response, and I was scared they wouldn’t allow me to participate.  But as of today, I am moved to starting Corral D (very last).  To ensure my safety during the race (I can’t see my feet), my sister and niece have graciously requested corral moves as well.  Though I won’t be running, I feel as if this race is one of the most important of my life.  It screams loudly that through God, no matter the circumstances, we can overcome and be victorious.

This morning my brother shared a dream he had: he dreamt that I was running a race and he was at the finish line waiting for me.  I choose to accept his dream as confirmation that God intends for me to make a full recovery and be back on the track running for His glory.  Plus, when our pastor’s daughters, Olivia and Natalia came to visit, they asked if I’d ever run again. I assured them I would and not only that, I would run their race, Chosen Marathon for Adoption again next year.

I may be broken, but I am NOT defeated.  God is the great physician and daily he is knitting my body back together.  Soon, I will once again, be running with purpose.

Reluctant Heroine

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Reflecting on my daily life, I often wonder if my actions exemplify Christ. Obviously there is no aura orbiting my curls, so what sets me apart? Does my behavior wordlessly express my dedication to a Savior, or am I just another body polluting the planet? Sadly, because I exist cloaked in a garment of flesh, that answer may vary from moment to moment.

Delusions shoved aside, I’m selfish, have preconceived notions of how life ought to be and rigid standards regarding the acceptable behavior of my fellow humans. Stir all of these elements together, bake for 44 years and voila! you have a recipe for a very unChristlike demeanor. Given the reality of my true nature, exemplifying Christ is a daily battle. He and I often do not share the same perspective. Fortunately for me, Christ’s love is unwavering and He won’t allow me to languish in my self- imposed bonds but rather pokes & prods until His path becomes mine. Such was the case on a recent early morning run.

Typically I arrive at the track around 4 a.m. It’s early, dark, I’m not dressed to impress, my face bears no make-up and my hair is tossed into a messy ponytail. I run for solitude. That desire coupled with the aforementioned environmental conditions equate, in Becky’s world, to permission for deviation from normal societal niceties. Copies of the “Rules of Becky’s World” are not yet ready for distribution, so much to my chagrin, lack of conformity among others is a problem. For months now I have begrudgingly tolerated the chit chat of a morning walker while simultaneously stepping over his FOUR, unleashed Weiner dogs. In the beginning I would grit my teeth and utter unrepeatable phrases under my breath. Eventually my disdain subsided and I accepted the conversation and puppies as part of my morning workout routine. By melting my ice encrusted heart God was preparing me for an opportunity to show His love to this man.

It was an unusually chilly morning and Sir Speakeasy had already provided commentary on my running attire, “Girl don’t you have anything warmer to wear?” I laughed and kept running. On my next pass he mentioned one of his dogs had gotten away. You can imagine what briefly when through my mind, “that’s why they should be on leashes”. I noticed the dog meandering around one of the clinics and slowed briefly. Glancing at my watch and back in the direction of Sir Speakeasy I kept going. I was training for a half marathon in two weeks and had a time goal, stopping to rescue that stupid dog would throw off my training. My third pass of Sir Speakeasy revealed glimpses of a man I’d never seen. He sadly asked, “You didn’t see her?” Conviction pierced my heart as I shamefully answered that I had seen her. I felt horrible and quickly prayed, “Lord, please help me find his stupid dog.” Continuing on I spotted the puppy heading straight for me. Stopping this time, I gratefully picked her up and carried her surprisingly heavy body halfway around the track, praying that Sir Speakeasy had not given up and headed home. As I bent to put the dog down at his feet Sir Speakeasy said, “She’s a runner and a heroine too.”

I’m no heroine. I am just an ordinary girl who, for a brief moment, set aside her selfish nature and allowed Christ to work through her. Praying those moments become all too common and not so rare.