I Thought Regular Exercise Could be Exhausting - Then I Started to Run

{05-28-14}

I have been toying around with the idea for a while now to participate in a race:  i.e., running.  I have more and more friends running regularly and that really piqued my interest.  Their pics at the finish line show such accomplishment on their faces.  One of my sisters-in-law even introduced me to Couch to 5K (C25K) as a fitness program that she was using to get into shape.  Now, I'm not wanting to do it because "everybody else" is doing it; I need to exercise on a regular basis anyway.  My body is not in the shape it needs to be in due to lack of proper diet and exercise.  I have forgotten Who gave me this body to take care of.  "Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies." (1 Corinthians 6:19-20, NIV).  And in learning way more about the pancreatic cancer my Dad died from than I ever wanted to know, I learned about PurpleStride.  It raises money that goes toward funding research and other services for patients (in all stages) and their family members.  Anything I can do to support other families like ours, I'm in.  Last year I raised some money but wasn't present at the local event.  This year, I want to be in it - doing.

Anyone who knows me knows I don't run and might possibly question my sanity in thinking it's a good idea.  I can honestly say that I can be a queen of excuses and could have come up with several somewhat decent reasons for not starting:  my "blessed chest" (those who have one know exactly what I'm talking about); bronchial spasms that can cause me shortness of breath; the high heat and humidity.  I can also honestly say that I am an extremely lazy and unmotivated person and can easily talk myself out of something I need to be doing.   But I had to start somewhere.  Once I decided I was going to start doing this running thing, I chose to go with a C25K mobile app.  It tells me what I need to do when the timer is up so I don't even have to take my eyes off of the trail to know what I need to do next (any avoidance of tripping over my own shoe is welcomed).

So, the Lord granted me another day and I woke up this morning.  I remembered what I had planned to do.  A part of me wanted to stay home and not do it.  But, thankfully, some silent motivation, common sense, and some prodding from the Holy Spirit won over and my son and I headed to the park so I could walk and run the trails while he went along for the ride in his stroller.

Oh.My.Word.  What was I thinking?

The 30-minute exercise routine didn't seem all that bad when I read over it the night before:  a 5-minute warm-up with a brisk walk, then alternating a 60-second jog with a 90-second walk (for 20 minutes), finishing up with a 5-minute cool-down walk.  It didn't even seem all that bad when I started my first jog.  "This isn't so bad; I can do this."  Can I tell you that my body is a LIAR?  It seriously needs to repent for leading me on like that!  The warm-up walk itself left me catching my breath and less than 30 seconds into the first jog, I was very out of breath but plugged along and finished out the minute.  It wasn't as bad as I thought.  Until the next jog, then the next.  You would think the 90-second walks inbetween jogs would be enough to catch your breath - now my brain is lying to me.  I can tell you that it isn't for someone in my shape.  The build-up of not catching your breath catches up with you as you mosey along.  I'll admit that I did take a couple of short breaks but I did make it over halfway before doing so <patting myself on the back>.  I'll also admit I could have laid down in the middle of the trail on more than one occasion and called it quits.

But I didn't.

I tried not to look at the timer counting down on my phone and wonder why it was moving so slowly (seriously, why does it tell me I only ran for 6 seconds when it clearly felt like 20 seconds?).  I set short visual points to help me make it to the timed goal.  Deep breath in through the nose and out through the mouth.  Just a little further; just 14 more seconds then it was time to walk again.  I did what I could to keep my mind set to short goals and not dwell on how much total time I had left.  And you know what?  I finished without managing to keel over. You know why?  Because "I can do all this through him who gives me strength." (Philippians 4:13, NIV). And it was only just the first day of an 8-week training program and it's bound to get better, right?  The next local PurpleStride event isn't until November so I have plenty of time to get into the shape I need to be in.

I pushed past the excuses:  my "blessed chest - nothing two halfway decent sports bras couldn't handle; bronchial spasms that can cause me shortness of breath - I brought my inhaler and took a preventative puff before getting started; the high heat and humidity - I chose a park that had semi-shaded trails and went before the sun got too high in the sky.  The excuses were conquered, at least for today, and I was no worse for the wear.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.



**Please note that I am not being asked to endorse any of the above entities.  These are just my personal preferences and passions that I'm sharing with you.**

"When Words Won't Come, Just Say 'Jesus'"

Six months.  Six long months.  Or six short months.  It all depends on the day, the moment, the memory.  Losing my Dad has been, by far, one of the hardest trials of this life.  There isn't a day that goes by that a thought of him doesn't cross my mind.   I have even had dreams about him.  In one of them, he was still sick and he became upset about something I that I told him the nurse said.  It broke my heart to tell him and even more so to see this horribly scared look on his face.  It was just a dream but it still makes me sad to think about it.  It reminds me of a look I saw on his face the week before he died; I'm not sure if it was a sad, scared, or sick/tired look, but it's a look that is forever etched in my mind.  I had another dream a few nights ago where he was outside squatting down behind our son, helping him with something.  I remember thinking in my dream that he didn't even look sick; he looked like his normal self.

Normal.  What does that mean, anyway?  Life can be "normal" one minute then completely upside down the next, with the adjustment to it often referred to as a "new normal".  By no means am I having to adjust like my Mom is.  She comes home to see his truck parked in front of the house; she has to walk past his room; should she walk in his room, she sees the things on his dresser, almost exactly as he left them.  Just about everything in the house triggers a memory for her.  While I don't experience it that to the degree, I do experience something similar.  My husband and I bought my parents' house (the house I grew up in) about 8 years ago.  While we have made some changes and added our own touches, making it our own, there are things around this house that clearly remind me of him:  doors and walls that he painted, especially my old room (now our son's room); flooring that he laid down; the hooks he installed under the mantle that we continue to hang our Christmas stockings from; the picnic table he built; the trees he planted in the yard, especially the one he planted in the front many years ago that was barely more than a stick, now over 30 feet tall.  There are other things but you get the idea.  To you, they may seem like silly things to become sentimental over but seeing things he did with his hands bring back good memories of him.  One of the last projects he worked on was helping my husband to build a stand for our fish tank, only a few months before he passed away.  After some finishing touches (and a little help from our Little Man), it now sits handsomely in our dining area.

Every time I walk in my son's room in the morning or after his nap, I turn off the CD player playing his "Grandpa's songs", songs used in my Dad's memorial video.  Some days the songs strike me more than others but I know it's a part of how our son remembers him so I don't mind.  Tears are part of the healing process.  And with as many tears as I've shed, I still feel all the ones I've shoved down inside of me, just waiting to burst forth.  Sadness hits me the most at night when it's quiet and I have nothing but time to think.  Sometimes I want to yell and scream how angry I am about him becoming sick and dying and leaving us behind to deal with it and sometimes I cry just because I miss him or because he's not there to celebrate a special event with us.  I know he is with our Savior and that one day we will see him again.  Yes, I still cry and, yes, I'm still dealing with the anger.  It's been six months and I feel about the same as I did then.  But I have to heal in my own time; everybody does.  Grief shouldn't be dwelled upon but neither should it be rushed.  Memories can be healing and comforting but we should not let them consume us to the point of living in the past.  I know God will use this experience for good; it has already served as an experience I could relate to when my sister-in-law's mother died unexpectedly just about 3 months later.  If He has anything else in store, it remains to be seen; it could be months or even years before He further reveals His will in all of this.

I can't change the circumstances.  The loss of him still hurts tremendously.  The healing process for me is very slow.  Sometimes, it hurts too much to even utter words of prayer, especially when I'm praying for continued healing for our family and when I've had an especially emotional day.  Not being able to speak my prayer aloud isn't a cop-out to not express my feelings and emotions.  If you've ever experienced a loss, you know how this feels; God knows our hearts.  But I did hear a song on the radio not long ago that related to this feeling of not even having the words to pray; it's called "Just Say 'Jesus'" by 7eventh Time Down.  There are a lot of songs I can relate to in this season of life but with this one, I want to share some of the lyrics* with you that stood out to me and hit me where I'm at:

"Life gets tough and times get hard...

Your heart isn't healing...

When you don't know what to say, just say 'Jesus'

There is power in the name, the name of Jesus

If the words won't come...just say 'Jesus'.

Whisper it now or shout it out

However it comes out, He hears your cry.

...Just call out to the way, the truth, the light.

...There is just one name, strong enough to save...

If the words won't come and you don't know what to say,

Just say, 'Jesus'."

Jesus...

(*You can click here for the complete lyrics or click here to watch the music video.)

A Not-so-Mother's Day

Today is a day set aside to celebrate moms and all they do and have done for us.  While we would like to be appreciated everyday like we are today, we'll gladly take what we can get.  We treasure the special attention like breakfast in bed, handwritten cards, homemade gifts, all creating happy memories.  But let's not take these moments for granted.  There are those who don't get those moments for one reason or another:  single moms; foster moms; birth moms; moms-to-be; moms that have lost children through miscarriage, stillbirth, medical issues, an accident, or someone else's hand; those that have lost their mom or someone who was like a mom or motherly figure to them; those that are moms at heart; those who are waiting to become moms; those that are trying to become moms; those who deal with infertility; and those who are waiting to adopt.  (I hope I didn't leave anyone out.)  They are all important.  They may not have a little one underfoot or a big one grown and married.  They may not be able to bear children or carry to term.  They may not be married but long to be a mom.  They may be missing their mom or child today.  They may feel overlooked and depressed.  Let them know that they are special to Someone.  Love on them without placating them; words and actions can seem meaningless to some unless Jesus is speaking through those words and actions.  Let them know that God knows the desires of their heart (Psalm 37:4, AMP).  Let them know that God sees their pain and hears their cries (Psalm 40:1, Psalm 55:17, Psalm 61:1, Psalm 86:6, NIV).  Let them know they are not forgotten (Psalm 13, NIV).  Let them know that they can place their trust in God and His timing (Psalm 37:3, 5-7, NIV).  Just be Jesus to them.