I came back after seven and a half, victorious, and joyful. I'm still hurt, but that's okay. The pain is part of chasing pavements, which I always believe is a good idea, until its not anymore.
You know, "should I give up or should I just keep chasing pavements"
You ALWAYS chase pavement.
SOOO many things are worth it.
Anyway, here's the chronology of my run, physically and emotionally.
I go out quick because I'm mad, and crack a smile at my stupidity when I decide to slow it down. The first mile was pretty easy and quick and I did a lot of angry thinking and spitting. Just because its cool to gather spit in your mouth, eject it, and watch it disappear in one swift motion. Reminding me that this too shall pass.
My right hip popped every step for the last part of the first mile and I thought I was going to injure myself but I smiled again because I was NOT about to stop a run that I felt that good on.
Anyway, my heart rate gets up, my legs are sore from yesterday's run, and I decide its time to shed my hoodie (while still running)- and my dignity. I threw my hoodie in the grass at the entrance to the turnpike trail, suddenly remembered some song lyrics that spoke to my exact heart situation and promptly started bawling. It was probably an interesting sight, sometimes I wish I had cameras around to catch these things.
And that's when this run became religious.
Somewhere between mile 1.5 and 2, I started laughing after the tears, and what followed can only be described as victory. I booked it down that hill.
Give me pain, I'll take it for a run and come back with joy that I don't understand, coming from I don't know where.
Give me that kind of joy, I'll take that, run with it a while, and turn it into the kind of tears that let you know that pain is temporary, no matter how bad, how much it aches.
I felt healing. Physically too. After two miles, my feet hit a rhythm, a beat that went through my head and my heart beat and I realized that this beat was healing. After tonight's run, I consider my stomach sickness completely manageable and therefore irrelevant in my life.
After that, I can conquer anything.
I hit my turnaround point, threw a fist up in the air, pointed to the sky, smiled, and carried on.
Around mile four, the physical difficulty of a long run, went away. I stopped hacking and spitting because there's no more spit to gather. My legs stopped struggling to make it up a hill and my heart was all I could hear. Strong and steady. I've never admired my heart more than tonight. And since I have this tendency to cry at beautiful things, and strong emotions lately, I cried again.
To my heartbeat.
I. Have. Lost. It.
It was just that its there, making me alive, adapting me to whatever is going on in my life, making me stronger. Beating out the pain, physical and emotional.
And then you smile. And then you feel once again that the world, hurtful and just plain wrong sometimes, is wrapped around your finger. I can do anything.
Some of its timing, some of its luck. Call it destiny, call it not in the cards, call it God's will, it doesn't make a difference because its happening anyway. Regardless of what I have to say about it.
At six miles, I was pretty much back to my house, but I ran past it. I went through some roads back in my neighborhood, getting faster (the last mile and a half was faster than my third mile), thanking my Jesus for that kind of strength- the physical kind that wouldn't let me stop, and the emotional kind that reminds me as well that I should press on. I thanked him for healing my stomach. I thanked him for the heartbreak that led me back to the worship experience that I find in running.
I sprinted back home. The human body knows few bounds, but I haven't a clue where that kick came from.
My feet eat pavement. They eat it and they spit it out behind me and turn this crazy mess into something I can handle. They stomp the soundtrack of my life out, telling me that there's pain and joy and healing and victory and heartache and its all jumbled into one and its messy. But.
But it will work out
Have faith
It
Will
Work
Out
My feet eat pavement.
What do yours do?
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