But That's Life. . .

Thanks to my SVJH 7th grade PE teacher Mr. Forrester, I have now been running five or six days a week for almost 15 years.  I don't remember those first few miles that I logged, but I remember feeling proud and content.  Over the years I've run for many reasons.  Weight loss, depression, anxiety, death, loss, sadness, happiness, elation, frustration, soul-searching, fitness, PRs, qualifiers, medals, trophies, time, friendship, travel, with a stroller and kids, and without.  I've run in many different countries and on three different continents.  I have a whole room with a wall covered in race bibs, finishing medals, awards, plaques, motivational quotes, and trophies.  I've won a lot of races and lost even more.  Every day I lace up the shoes again, take a deep breath, and go.  The first few steps are always the toughest, and the last few always the most gratifying.  Some days the legs burn, the stomach churns, and the running sucks.  But that's life.

I actually enjoy sharing my passion of running with others oftentimes more than I enjoy my own running.  Watching those 4th graders push their mile times down, sweat out, and push the boundaries of their own limitations is awe-inspiring.  They learn that pain can be okay and that limits need to be tested.  But that's life.

Competing against and getting beaten by former athletes I coached is oftentimes a bear, but that's life.  Running with former athletes and racing with them is emotionally rewarding, and that's life.  I have circles of friends, but my running friends have accepted me in the worst of times.  We've sweated out our deepest secrets, pounded out our frustrations, and hugged through sweat. snot, and tears.  But that's life.

I've run through an eating disorder, on my wedding day, through three pregnancies, the loss of a child, the loss of my father, and nearly every day over the last 15 years.  I've run through snow, lightning, rain, wind, heat, and hail.  But that's life.

When I push the boys in the stroller I stop the run to accommodate potty breaks, throwing rocks into the river, and picking blackberries.  Sometimes the boys get out and run along side me.  My runs are slower but much more meaningful.  But that's life.

I took a friend I have been encouraging in her running, up to get fitted for a new pair of running shoes.  As she was on the treadmill having her gait analyzed, the handsome young man (national record holder of some trail race) asked her, "Are you training for any races coming up?"  She replied, "Yes.  .  .  Life!".

Two words, so simple, so true.  We're all just training for life, in our own way, in our own time.  It's our race to run.  The best race we'll ever enter and the longest journey of all.  But that's life.