This is my church. That's what I literally uttered to myself the other day while running down a gravel road. The sun was shining with fall warmth, there was a light breeze, I was in a rhythm and it was as if I could not have possibly felt anymore spiritual.
You see, running has not always been my church. Far from it in fact. When I started this journey the last days of June, making it to the mailbox {at a friend's farm, but still} was a struggle to achieve. I don't really know what possessed me to start running. I just did. And, I added a little bit each day. A little bit each day. A little bit each day.
Until one day, I made it a mile. A mile down the prairie trail by my parents' farm. The farm I lived my whole childhood. The ground I'd touched my whole childhood. When I came to the end of that first mile, I almost cried. Now, I am not an emotional person. I was actually told by a football coach that I have no soul when I told him I did not cry at the movie or the book Marley and Me. I don't get choked up. I just deal. So, when I felt the urge to cry at the end of that mile, I knew it was big. I had just shifted. I sensed it.
Then, I added a little bit each day. A little bit each day. A little bit each day. And, then it happened, I don't know when, but it happened. Now, I can't imagine not running. I need it. It's my church. The time of the day when I feel like I'm a part of something bigger than me...when I feel like I'm a part of the ground. The time of the day when I feel like I'm accomplishing a goal. I've discovered about myself that I am extremely goal orientated and as soon as the grad school goal was over, I felt lost. Until the day I ran to the mailbox and almost passed out. Then, my next goal was so apparent it was beating me on the head with a frying pan. To run and be one of those weirdo people who enjoy it.
So, on Sunday, when I was finishing a four mile run with the sun starting to set and the breeze speaking its encouraging mantra, I uttered to myself...this is my church. And, I meant it. Another weirdo check mark for me.
P.S. These pictures were taken in late June. Right after the mailbox running incident.
5 comments:
So glad you found that good place to be. By the way, I know that tree, I know who put those steps there and built a tree house.
Me too Momma Debi...me too.
And, I love that tree. Have always loved that tree because it reminds me of you and your crazy, wild, imaginative childhood!
So proud of you and your running! Keep on this track and by May you'll be ready for the FULL marathon!!
You'd fit in great in Boulder with all the running weirdos! I have not been converted to running. . . but the hiking, that's my church. :) Glad you found yours! Hope you continue to enjoy!
Wow, Amy! What determination! 4 miles!!! I'm impressed (and tired just thinking of it!) You go, girl!!!
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