For Sheila

Almost every significant person in my life has shared a word with me at some point that has been like a ray of heaven breaking through clouds. Their words, whether they realized it or not, were the perfect advice, encouragement, or kick in the rear I needed.  These stored sound bytes are like apples of gold in my memory.

My sister-in-law, Sheila, was one such person who left an indelible word for my life. She passed away last week after a long battle with cancer, and she was one of the sweetest women I have ever met.  Her smile was infectious.  I can close my eyes and hear her laughing. However, there was no doubt she was going through a lot of stresses and struggles a few years ago when she told me, "It's been really rough lately, but I'm trying to remember to guard my heart and not let the root of bitterness get in."

And like that her words became seared in memory. Guard my heart. Proverbs 4:23.  I knew that verse, but hearing it again was so very aptly timed.  Whether Sheila knew it or not, that's just what I needed for just that season and in just that way.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have had a very large struggle with my faith in the past few years.  So much so, I questioned whether I even believed in God. I can't quite convey what it's like to go from belief to the edge of unbelief, but it's akin to teetering on the precipice of a monster black hole inside a monster galaxy inside a universe. It's beyond lonely, and I did not like it, not one little bit. But my mind kept circling there on that precipice with great wings of disappointment, disillusionment, and disgust.  During that time (a few years?), I rarely ever prayed.  I just couldn't get it out. On the few occasions I did, I prayed only two things: Lord sustain me through this and please help me guard my heart. Sheila's words from God, and that's it.

God is merciful. Slowly, but surely, the acorn buried deep in the snow, took root and began to grow.  Even now it's scarcely a seedling, but it rejoices in the spring because it knows winter. I don't ever want to return to that precipice, but I'm grateful beyond measure that I was there.  And I'm grateful beyond measure for a beautiful sister-in-law who became my conduit to God.

Yes, this is a quasi-running blog.  A marathon preparation blog at that. Since the moment I began training, I knew I wanted to dedicate my 26.2 mile race to Sheila. Every time I pulled out of my driveway at 6:25 on some cold Saturday morning for my long run, I thought of her. Every mile of aching injury I'd feel, I'd be reminded of her painful struggle with cancer. To the end, she fought the good fight, she saw the prize set before her, and she finished her race.  She won. A marathon is the representation of life. I have such peace that I'm truly living life as me, and I believe Sheila did too.  And that's contentment right there.

I run because I'm happy,
I run because I'm free,
For His eye is on the sparrow, 
And I know He watches me.

 I try to remember that passion looks like craziness to those who don't share it.  ~ Jan Stuckey (my mom)

Part 4: Why I Run

Because it's there.

Less is more. ~ Ludwig Mies van der Rohe

Part 3: Why I Run

As I was running my long run last week, I was delighted to see a herd of deer sprint across the road in front of me.  No matter how many times I've seen deer, they never cease to be a source of interest to me.  Several deer, maybe 10, shot across the road ahead of me.  To my surprise, a doe and her fawn stopped and remained stock-still  -- never crossing the road.  A mother held her baby back, knowing it was not time to join the group.

Now, crying and running don't mix well for me.  It messes with my breathing, my pace gets all off, and I look like a complete fool.  But I cried some because I understood that doe, and I knew this post was coming.  She could not cross with the herd because she felt it was unsafe for her child.  She made a split second decision and opted not to cross the intersection because her fawn was in jeopardy.  I was approaching (with lightning speed, I must tell you ;)), and although she could probably make it, her fawn was in question.  There was no real option; she stayed back.

I'm a 41-year-old woman training for my first marathon.  I'll be 42 when I (attempt to) run it.  Could I have crossed the road earlier? Not by much.  My season had not yet come. But I wouldn't trade it for all the Darjeeling in India.  I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the right season is now.  My fawn (2) only now cross the road safely.

I run for my children because they mean the proverbial, yet profound, everything.  Since they've been born it's as simple as this:  I run if I can and I don't if I can't.  If they have a volleyball game, I don't run.  If their soccer practice is canceled (woo-hoo!), I do. I asked them recently if they minded if I trained for a marathon (no small time-sucking undertaking) and they said, "No.  We'd be really proud of you."  To have their blessing warms my heart and gives me peace in training.  Sometimes I even get the ultimate compliment, "It's cool."  That's teenage language for, "You're the most wonderful mother a child could possibly have!"  Or so I'd love to believe.

Can I tell you the mistakes in parenting I've made?  Oh, how I wish I could start over. Major, significant mistakes.  But what I want my daughter to see is a not-so-young woman setting a goal, fighting for it, and reaching it.  I don't want her to accomplish any less.  Ever.  I want my son to see that women are not 'just' housewives.  They're people with minds, lives, goals, aspirations.

And they can wait. Wait until their fawn are ready because they love them.  Because life is not about me.  But "me" is a person too.

Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.  ~Henry David Thoreau

Part 2: Why I Run

A second reason I run is to honor and remember those who can't.  When I started training for a half-marathon last fall, I learned that my sister-in-law's cancer had returned.  It was stage 4. She had so much trouble with the cancer in her lungs that it was a struggle just for her to breathe.  Large amounts of fluid had to be drained from her lungs, and she spent many agonizing nights in the hospital.  Every time I would start running, I'd think about her family.  I became very conscious of my breath, that constant yet essential function, and I remembered to pray for Sheila to be healed.

It is for her, my dear sweet sister-in-law Sheila, who bravely continues her struggle against cancer, that I dedicate this marathon.  Your faith and courage are such an inspiration, and I love you.  For the other two family members that have been lost to cancer, my step-brother Chris, and my mother-in-law Glenda:  I know we'll one day run together on streets of gold. 

You don't have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body. - C.S. Lewis

Part I: Why I run

I started running for the obvious reasons:  it's good for your health, it helps keep my weight in check, it's a fairly inexpensive exercise (sooo wrong about that one), it lifts the mood, etc.  But in past couple of years, running has taken on new meaning.  Meanings that I never expected.

Put simply, the main reason I now run is because it's become a spiritual exercise.  My mind is cleared of modern clutter, and I focus with a clarity that I rarely experience in any other venue.  I have never felt more grateful for my health, or for God's creation, than when I run.

"Thank you, God, for my lungs.  They work, and I'm alive. Thank you so much, God, for these legs that move.  They hurt, but I'm grateful to have them."  These are the not-so-complicated things I think.

Simple, private prayers of thanksgiving between God and me bubble forth so easily when I run, and I feel God's presence.  The beauty of a fading sun, long shadows of the evening, redbuds blossoming in spring -- all remind me of the Creator who made it all. (Can you tell I'm a late day runner?)

In every walk (or run) with nature one receives far more than he seeks. ~ John Muir