Challenged.

You know those mornings when you wake up and the last thing you want to do is run? Everything hurts. You’re feeling lethargic. The list of things you need to get done instead of running seems endless, and the justifications are flying through your head. You are both trying to convince yourself to go running while simultaneously trying to talk yourself out of it. 

Then, a miracle happens. You step out the door, and with each step, you feel rejuvenated. You are energized, free, feeling fantastic, and so glad you decided to go running. Usually those turn into the best runs, where the stiffness and sleepiness shed their way into a faster pace, an easier stride, and great sense of accomplishment once the run is over.

This was not one of those runs.

Sure, it started out the same. I was not wanting to walk out the door, much less run. Training plan said 3-5 miles, so I settled for four. The Type A personality inside of me was screaming to do the five, but my body and my heart said no. I was running with the husband and the kids, and the stiffness in my hips screamed to turn around and just veg with the AC. 

At 0.34 miles in, the husband said, “I think this will turn into a 3 mile run.”

My response? “I’m okay with it turning into a 0.34 mile run.” 

The combination of lack of sleep (a teething 6 month old and a 2 year old with night terrors), Kansas heat, and still trying to figure out my nutrition to accommodate nursing while training for a marathon had left me feeling a bit ragged. 

The thought ran through my head of simply going home. Taking a few days off. Sleeping in instead of doing a 12-14 mile run on Saturday (tiny humans allowing). But doing so would contradict who I am—a runner. Sure, it is important to take breaks, to take rest days, but it is also important to keep going when the temper tantrum inside of me says to stop moving. 

Such a skill has been refined in every aspect of my life.

What if that were an option? What if we could just stop being who we are for a while? Sometimes, my marriage is hard. There are days where I look at my children and ponder who I can ship them off to for a little while so I can just get some sleep. And at times, I want to tell the people I serve with at church to talk to the proverbial hand. But in those moments, I don’t stop being a wife, a mother, or a Young Women’s leader. I can’t. They are all integral facets of who I have become. 

And on the other side of that very rough, multifaceted rock, is “Runner.”

So sometimes it’s hot, and my hips hurt, and I’m tired, and my pace blows.

But I keep moving. Because it’s who I am.