Running is inherently introspective, I think. Of course, this post is the epilogue to a three mile run, so it will be a very reflective post.
Today was my first run in several weeks. Since January 31, in fact. There is nothing like the first run after a long break. It both harder and easier than anticipated. Suddenly all of the forgotten perks of running come rushing back - the sound of feet hitting the pavement, the feel of the wind rushing against the face, the feel of endorphins supplementing focus and determination. Today's run brought all of those pleasantly rushing back.
Normally I run alone. I like to run alone. I like to think and go at my own pace, rather than talk and worry about keeping pace with others. I'm an introspective runner if ever there was one. I can't even focus on the music I am listening to. Such sensations simply wash over me, occasionally rushing to the forefront of my consciousness for a brief span of seconds.
Today I had the great pleasure of running with my favorite companion, Jack. Jack is my beautiful black lab. He is around five years old, with all the energy of a new puppy. The idea of a run threw him into a fit of excitement. It took nearly the entire first mile of the run to calm him down enough to get into a comfortable pace for both of us. I am not so foolish as to pay no regard to the ankle which has kept me off of the road for the better part of two months, so the going was a little slow.
Regardless, it was a glorious run through my neighborhood. Even though it is ridiculously hill-filled (somehow the route that has become my favorite is mostly uphill), the strain felt good on my legs that were still suffering from the effects of a day of traveling.
After the first two miles, I began to feel the effects of the running sabbatical and switched to interval running for the last mile. Jack definitely appreciated the switch. My poor exhausted puppy. I have no doubt that he loved every minute of it. It's interesting how something so simply must have created so much joy for him.
Besides my run, my break so far has been pretty run of the mill. Slept till nine, chiro appt (found out Kurt left - still processing my grief. At least I'll always have Dr. Scott), went to Borders for a closing sale and bought fabulous books for even better prices, and went to Honduras for a week. The rest of the time will be divided into homework, seeing friends from long ago, and enjoying my favorite parts of Kansas City, including the chance to visit camp on Saturday.
I briefly mentioned Honduras. Soon enough this blog will be updated on that experience. But that's enough for today.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Honesty.
Some days I feel more acutely aware of my own flaws than others. In some ways, today has been such a day.
As my stress level increases, I find myself become less and less gracious and more whine-y, for lack of a better term. My ability to relate to people on a relational level all but vanishes behind the shadows of the enormous to-do list taking up residence in the forefront of my brain. Even God sometimes must submit to the demands of my schedule.
I hate that. I know it isn't right. I know that I serve a God who is so much bigger than any demand that could ever be placed on my time, so much more important than any single assignment or task or grade. Yet he takes his place somewhere in the bottom half of the task list, patiently waiting for my overwhelmed heart to seek solace in him.
Overwhelmed. I've been using that word a lot lately. I don't even have a firm grasp on what it means. I've started to simply use it to express the inexpressible ball of lead that has made its home somewhere between my stomach and my mouth, nestling near the bottom of my trachea, meddling where it shouldn't and dropping to the pit of my stomach as it pleases. As much as I try to give it to God, it is content to stay right where it has been residing for far to long. I so desire for its removal, yet it stays.
A good friend reminded me tonight that I am in a time that I will not remember nostalgically, but simply as a time when God was preparing me for something greater. I long to fully believe that. Yet as the days dwindle and the airport looms ahead, I find myself distracted, unfocused on the prize. Perhaps it is the sheer amount of unpleasant tasks that stand between us, but I still feel as though I should feel something. I am beyond excited about the anticipation my little sister feels. Reading her blog post on the article fills my heart with a big sister's pride - to know her heart and see her serving God is bliss. I am excited for her, but strangely empty with regards to my experience.
So much of me longs to have an explanation for this. Try as I might, I cannot see beyond the end of the stressful season. I feel each day pass - seemingly taking an eternity, yet gone in a blink. I feel the discouragement and the anticipation of simply being provided for and taken care of for a few days, but no more.
It is on days like these that I long for an emotional response. As a whole, I tend toward the analytical side, reserving my tears (generally) for situations that warrant frustration or anger. I can't force myself to feel something or even to see beyond the logical on some days. I feel drawn to work and productivity and see relationships as a means to an end, rather than a joy. Don't get me wrong, I do value friendship but I often do not pursue friendship for the joy that it will later bring.
It is on days like these that I long for the loving heart of Christ which so many around me need to see and feel. I long to be the embracer, the one with the perfect hug and comment, to be used more by the Holy Spirit. I can only pray that He would continue His work in me on days like this. And on every day. And I can look forward to the glorification that stands in the distance, the final perfection, the beginning of a Heavenly Kingdom.
As my stress level increases, I find myself become less and less gracious and more whine-y, for lack of a better term. My ability to relate to people on a relational level all but vanishes behind the shadows of the enormous to-do list taking up residence in the forefront of my brain. Even God sometimes must submit to the demands of my schedule.
I hate that. I know it isn't right. I know that I serve a God who is so much bigger than any demand that could ever be placed on my time, so much more important than any single assignment or task or grade. Yet he takes his place somewhere in the bottom half of the task list, patiently waiting for my overwhelmed heart to seek solace in him.
Overwhelmed. I've been using that word a lot lately. I don't even have a firm grasp on what it means. I've started to simply use it to express the inexpressible ball of lead that has made its home somewhere between my stomach and my mouth, nestling near the bottom of my trachea, meddling where it shouldn't and dropping to the pit of my stomach as it pleases. As much as I try to give it to God, it is content to stay right where it has been residing for far to long. I so desire for its removal, yet it stays.
A good friend reminded me tonight that I am in a time that I will not remember nostalgically, but simply as a time when God was preparing me for something greater. I long to fully believe that. Yet as the days dwindle and the airport looms ahead, I find myself distracted, unfocused on the prize. Perhaps it is the sheer amount of unpleasant tasks that stand between us, but I still feel as though I should feel something. I am beyond excited about the anticipation my little sister feels. Reading her blog post on the article fills my heart with a big sister's pride - to know her heart and see her serving God is bliss. I am excited for her, but strangely empty with regards to my experience.
So much of me longs to have an explanation for this. Try as I might, I cannot see beyond the end of the stressful season. I feel each day pass - seemingly taking an eternity, yet gone in a blink. I feel the discouragement and the anticipation of simply being provided for and taken care of for a few days, but no more.
It is on days like these that I long for an emotional response. As a whole, I tend toward the analytical side, reserving my tears (generally) for situations that warrant frustration or anger. I can't force myself to feel something or even to see beyond the logical on some days. I feel drawn to work and productivity and see relationships as a means to an end, rather than a joy. Don't get me wrong, I do value friendship but I often do not pursue friendship for the joy that it will later bring.
It is on days like these that I long for the loving heart of Christ which so many around me need to see and feel. I long to be the embracer, the one with the perfect hug and comment, to be used more by the Holy Spirit. I can only pray that He would continue His work in me on days like this. And on every day. And I can look forward to the glorification that stands in the distance, the final perfection, the beginning of a Heavenly Kingdom.
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