Why We Run

Dear Isabel and Sofi,
It's been almost a year since I started running.  3 times a week for the past nine months I've literally hit the ground running, and there's so much that I've learned, so much that I want to share with you.  When I started lacing up my shoes last March, I noticed you.  Watching, studying, eyes on me.  I'd head out the front door, and sometimes you'd ask to come with me, and other times when the wind blew cold and my legs ached, you'd ask: "Why do you run, Mom?"  I had a lot of time to think about my answer, as my weary feet tread miles stretched over days and weeks and months.  I thought about why I run and this is what I learned:

I was 29 the first time I ran a mile.  For nearly three decades, I believed that I couldn't last the 5,280 feet from point A to point B, and I was too embarrassed to try and fail.  And then one day, I put in my headphones and slipped on my running shoes and just did it.  Ran a mile, without stopping.  And that feeling, at the end, of pushing through your own self-doubt and doing something you'd never done...this is why I run.  After your brother was born, my body felt the impact of carrying and sustaining life - there is nothing more amazing than this feeling, but at the end of it all, your body just feels drained.  And then we lost Audrey and while I clung to God who was gracious and good, my soul just felt drained.  I needed to feel strong again, and strength often comes from pushing yourself to do something you never thought you could do.  This gift of strength found in pushing the limits, this is why I run.  As winter dragged well into spring, my feet pounded the pavement, and the feeling of sunshine on my face and cold air pushing in and out of my lungs pushed me forward.  I set a goal of running a 5k, which some people can do without training, but I knew that this goal would take work and even though it was a little scary, I was determined to see it through.  I began to see my body as a gift - instead of judging its flaws in the mirror, I appreciated its ability to hit a wall and then push right through.  While I started with the hopes that my body would change, I found that the greater joy was in my perspective changing.  This is why I run.  And I began to recognize that like all gifts God entrusts to us, my body is something that I am meant to steward - to care for and strengthen and use.  Stronger arms can better carry your baby brother, stronger legs can better chase after you, greater endurance can better sustain me through long days of parenting and working and yes, running.  So to build stronger arms and legs and endurance, this is why I run.  Running gave me a greater appreciation for the words in Hebrews 12:1, "Therefore since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out before us."  Perseverance found on a quiet road will carry over to perseverance needed in a troubled soul, and this is why I run.  

Sometimes you would ask to join me, and I'd bring you along and this thing of running together, planted an idea in the back of my mind.  You kept watching and I kept running and I made my goal and ran that 5k, with your sweet faces cheering me on.  You watching me - making goals, facing obstacles, overcoming obstacles, meeting goals, this is why I run.

Then came fall, and I had thought about this thing of you watching me, and sometimes running alongside of me and asking me why I run.  And instead of telling you, I wanted to show you.  So this time it was your turn to lace up your running shoes and pound the pavement - not alone, but together, all of us, a team of would-be runners.  In the beginning, it was easy.  Voices chattering, giggling, carried on an Indian Summer breeze.  Three times a week we started running together, enjoying each others' company, and my heart, joy-filled, thought this is why we run.  As we starting running farther and longer, it got harder and some days you struggled.  There were days that the tears fell as your feet dragged, but you pushed through and felt stronger at the end, and this is why we run.  There were other days that you cheered each other on, sisters, teammates, side by side.  One would fall behind and the other would fall back, with quiet words of encouragement.  "I think this running thing is bringing us along in our relationship," you told me.  And yes, this is why we run.  Sometimes your dad and I pushed you forward... "pick up the pace...you can do this... you're lighter than air!"  Sometimes your brother joined in, cozy in his stroller yelling, "Go, Bel-bel, go!  Run!!!"  He loved to watch you run.  And sometimes it was you, running and skipping, fingers brushing the fall leaves turning in the trees, cheerful voice singing with joy; yes, sometimes it was YOU that kept ME going.  This is why we run, to know that we are a team always and forever, cheering each other on, encouraging each other when we struggle, leading by example.

You're both growing up so fast, and where little girls once saw legs for twirling and bellies for tickling, I see you now, watching yourself in the mirror, measuring yourself up to unrealistic expectations you can't possible attain.  From billboards to commercials, you face a message that you aren't good enough the way you are.  You're already asking if you're too fat or too skinny, and I hate those words because they will haunt your spirit and steal your joy and swallow your confidence whole.  But when you run, skinny or fat won't help you, but STRONG will carry you past the point you thought you could not reach.  And you, YOU are strong, and you are only growing stronger, and as you run, you KNOW this to be true.  You feel it in aching muscles and deep breaths of fresh air and I hope that deep down in the depths of you, you know that this is why we run.  

You both worked so hard, training together, running together, growing together.  I hope you learned lessons great and deep from this experience, but know that I learned as much from you.  We spent 10 weeks together, 3 times a week, running towards a goal you often thought you could not reach.  There were days that I doubted, days I wondered if this was too hard for you, for all of us.  But you proved how strong you are, over and over again.  I was so looking forward to running our race together.  We had a great plan - you'd drive with your grandparents to Oklahoma City, where we'd run our race with aunts and uncles and grandparents together.  We'd fly with your brother (because no one in their right mind would drive that far with a toddler), and we'd all meet up two nights before the race.  Plenty of time to rest up before our run.  And then we got sick.  Fevers and stuffy noses and coughs that rattled in our chests.  And then our flight got cancelled.  There you were, 800 miles away, and instead of worrying you told me, "I knew you'd come up with a plan".  So we got in our car and started driving to you.  We finally reached our hotel at midnight, more than 30 hours after we left our house for the airport.  6 hours before we had to get up and head for the race.  And let me tell you, I had crafted so 

many excuses - good excuses, valid excuses - for why I would not run that race in the morning.  "We can run some and walk some," I told myself.  But then I thought of you, and all those days of training in the sun and the wind and the rain and even the snow.  You kept going and you finished well and now it was my turn.  So we laced up our running shoes one more time TOGETHER.  And we ran that race TOGETHER.  And when we wanted to quit we kept going until that finish line was in our sights.  Hearts pounding in our chests and feet pounding the pavement, you asked, "can we hold hands when we cross the finish line?"  So finish line just feet away, we grabbed hands and as we finished, that look of triumph, of confidence gained over miles, through teamwork and hard work, that is why we ran.

Maybe someday you'll run a marathon.  Maybe you'll trade your running shoes in for dancing shoes or cleats or skis.  But whether you choose to keep running or never run again, you'll always have that experience of running the race and receiving the prize.  You'll always know the joy found in setting a goal, training for that goal, and then reaching that goal.  You'll always remember the feeling of appreciating your body for the gift that it was created to be - muscles and joints and bones working together to carry you across a finish line.  You'll always carry with you the memory of our crazy family, working with each other and FOR each other, through good times and bad.  That is why we ran.