Reflecting

On a random day eight years ago, I found myself on a sandy beach in Guam determined to walk the length of the shore (like I'd done so many times before). I walked for about five minutes then sank into the sand, defeated. A few weeks prior to this I had had a freak accident and my body was still feeling the odd effects of receiving an unintended surge of electricity from an inappropriately positioned electrical outlet. That day on the beach was emotionally devastating, my body was letting me down and I couldn't do anything about it. In the years since, I have had many more disappointments with a few successes sprinkled in. I've fought and pushed and cried and given up then, in hope, pursued my goals once again. Hope is such a miraculous thing. With all the countless attempts I've made these past eight years to be healthy and whole and healed, all the failed attempts, there's sometimes a temptation to just give in. A temptation to stop trying, to accept my lot in life and wish for nothing more. But stronger than the temptation to give in is the hope in what could be if I would only give it one more try. Yes, I've tried this running thing before, and have quit each time before I really had a chance to start. Bad knee, exhaustion, depression, the reasons were ample enough to keep me off my feet for a long time. But then there was always that other thing, that spark prompting me to give it one more chance. There was hope. I praise God for hope.

On a random day in January, I laced up my running shoes and boldly proclaimed to my husband that I wanted to run three miles without stopping. A tall order seeing as how I've never done this before. Mile one, not so bad. Mile two, I started to question my sanity. Mile three, is sort of a blur. Reaching the three mile mark, was wonderful! Eight years ago I couldn't have imagined being able to walk, let alone run, three miles. Today, I did it! Hope is a beautiful thing.