I am a proud member of the slow runner’s club. This, however, is not to be confused with calling myself a runner. I am slow and it hurts but I am learning to love the process. I ran three miles for the first time in over two years and I felt like I’d just finished a marathon. It is becoming a time for me to think and pray and not constantly fill my time and energy and thoughts with whatever is directly in front of me. I’ve stopped listening to music and now the things I’m so quick to distract myself with are gone. Last week Taylor and I ran together for the first time ever. I had to eat my words after swearing up and down that I would never run with him. My insecurities lurk beneath the surface and they so suddenly rear their ugly head. You’re slow. You’re embarrassing. You can’t do this. They’re all lies yet I’m prone to believe them. And so, I let Taylor see me when I was struggling in a big way. It was a scary leap and it was extremely freeing and for the first time I saw running as something truly beautiful. Not because it got easier or I was less tired, but because it allowed me to begin to tear down the wall I hadn’t quite realized was even there. In exposing the weakest parts I like to keep hidden, light was allowed in. And where the light floods and exists and beams, darkness cannot.
So any slow runners out there…I’m there. I’m with you. Let’s go together.