I started "running" in college, purely out of necessity.
Let me give you a little background. When I was in high school, I never thought much about my weight. I was so active and busy (and I was a friggin teenager with a fabulous teenager's metabolism) that weight wasn't something I struggled with. And then something happened when I graduated . . . Womanhood!
You know how they call the weight you put on your first year of college the "freshman fifteen"? Well. . . let's just say I am an overachiever in that department. I had gained 10 lbs between high school graduation and freshman orientation! I had taken a seasonal job in Nashville for my summer between high school and college. It was such a wonderful experience and I made lasting friendships. God used that time in my life to show me so much about myself and about Himself. But out in the "real world" I no longer had 3 healthy meals a day, prepared by my mother. I was no longer spending all of my free time at the dance studio and the activities I kept myself busy with were replaced with trying new foods in the new place I lived. When I wasn't eating out, I was living off of 3 food groups: store bought bagels, cereal, and sandwiches. That's a hell of a lot of bread! And like Shakira, my hips weren't lying. . . only, the truth they were telling was that I was getting pudgy.
I started off freshman year that way. My lifestyle had changed and I continued to not get the sleep I needed, not eat the food I should, and not exercise consistently. By the end of my first semester, I pretty much lived in gym shorts and t-shirts because that's all that fit anymore. My mom had tried to encourage me to "maybe work out a little" so when I told her I needed new clothes for Christmas, she bought me a used treadmill. . . subtle, huh?
But I needed that treadmill. I needed to make better choices. I needed to get healthy again. So I started running or more appropriately, I should say I started stomping because when I "ran" my moves were so damn heavy that it felt more like marching through water or mud. I didn't gain any more weight my spring semester, but I also didn't lose any. I just maintained my pudginess. If I was going to lose any of the "freshman thirty" (don't hate), I was going to have to do a lot more than just jump on my treadmill 3 times a week. I needed to reverse what I had done to get to this point. I needed another LIFESTYLE CHANGE.
(Side Note: Derek and I started dating while I was in this pudgy stage. I'm pretty sure at that point my waistline was bigger than his. He never once made me feel pudgy and I love that we started dating during this VERY awkward time in my life. Awkward not just physically but in so many other ways - but I'll save all of that for another post.)
I would love to tell you that one day I woke up determined, started sleeping well, eating well, and exercising. . . but that's definitely not the case. The life changes came slowly. It started with the treadmill 3 times a week (as mentioned). Then I started cooking for myself instead of eating all of my meals on campus or at Panera (don't get it twisted, I still love me some Panera). This was even more true my second year of college as I no longer had a "meal plan" so I couldn't afford to eat on campus. I also couldn't afford to eat out often.
That year I also got a bike (an awesome pastel pink cruiser that I still own and adore). I no longer stayed out all hours of the night (like freshmen do.) I had real classes that required some sort of real sleep. And most importantly, I found my first gym buddy (love you, Courtney Jo). We met up at the campus gym several times a week. It's amazing how a little accountability and healthy competition can motivate you to actually follow through with good goals. She was someone I could talk to while I ran to get my mind off of the running.
Running for me is a lot like acting like an adult (I say acting because being an adult, and ACTING like an adult are 2 totally different things). Like running, acting like an adult is not something I am naturally good at. It's not something I'd say I enjoy, but when I force myself to make good choices, I am slowly transformed. It feels less awkward. It gradually moves from something you have to make yourself do, to something that you don't have to really think about. It becomes your norm. This isn't something I am able to do in and of myself. It requires something greater than me. It requires Jesus.
My consistency with running ebbs and flows. It's probably safe to say my consistency with acting like an adult does as well. But I have found that in order to maintain this discipline, I need backup. It starts with making up your own mind but in my experience, it's only sustained by the help of others. We all need each other. We need people who are like-minded, cheering us on. We need to be cheerleaders as well, like a running buddy. And how about another cheesy metaphor to top it off? We not only need running buddies or cheerleaders, we need a coach. (Yep, that's the Jesus part.) For me, it is best if I take it step by step, one day at a time. (Sometimes I have to take acting like an adult one moment at a time. . . especially since I've become a mother. . . but again, that's for another post).
This morning I woke up and ran. Derek woke up earlier and ran first. So this morning when it was my turn, as much as I wanted to roll over and get that extra 30 minutes of sleep, I didn't because he didn't. I am not as strong as I was before I had Lucy. She is almost 6 months old and I am still further behind in my running than I'd like to be. But I got up. I ran today. And you know what? I'm pretty damn proud of that. During my run, I hated every minute of it. But as soon as I was finished, the endorphins kicked in. Energy rushed through me and I was WIDE AWAKE, ready for the day. I took a cold shower and felt my sweaty skin steam in it. I love that feeling.
You've probably figured out by now that I hate running. But I LOVE the way I feel AFTER a good run. That's what makes me struggle through the work of it - the reward. It makes me proud (like "I AM A WARRIOR" proud). It makes me feel alive, even the ache after. It makes me not "need" coffee. It clears my mind and relieves my stress. There are so many good things that come from the discipline of running and it's for those things that I keep at it. There are so many good things that come from the discipline of acting like an adult, and it's for those things that I keep at it.
If you are not a runner, I urge you to try it. Run. Release. Feel - even if it's pain. Because feeling something unpleasant is better than feeling nothing at all. And in life - RUN YOUR HEART OUT. Or better yet, RUN YOUR ASS OFF! (But not all of it, because there's nothin' wrong with having some ass left to grab on to.) SPRINT! Run to the point that your lungs are burning from within you. . . or jog. Or glide. Whatever you do, do so intentionally. I think you'll find that you are capable of more than you imagined. I think you'll find that you secretly start to want to run, or be, or love, or do a number of things that make us vulnerable. That make us connected. That make us healthy.
I am NOT a runner. But I run anyway.
(Picture taken with my friend Jessi after my first 5k. Jessi IS a runner)
". . . let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith. . ."
-Hebrews 12:1b - 2a
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