Yesterday, Sam, Jason and I ran a local race. It was a 5k, which is a distance some of you are probably laughing out loud at right now, but hey, it was a good place for our family to start. We woke up early, put on our running shoes, and I pulled my hair back into my trusty nub ponytail ;) After some pacing around at the starting line, we were off!
Sam beat me, of course, but I was proud that I came in only two minutes behind him, and a few minutes under my goal time too. Jason was mostly happy that he got a gatorade at the end :)
^^ I somehow got second in my age group? ^^
And now, if you'll indulge me with this paragraph: During the race, I kept thinking about when I ran this same race two years ago. Back then, running was a desperate way for me to deal with my grief. I'd run and run until I couldn't run anymore and then limp home crying from the heartache my mom's death left. Now, I run for exercise and fulfillment, not an escape route. I realize it's only 3.1 miles, but every mile that my stubbornly iron-deficient body will let me go feels like a mini miracle. Last time I ran this race, I had a family who couldn't come and a boyfriend who didn't. Now, I have my own little family who not only came to watch, but ran with me. I've heard the scripture "the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away." Mostly, He gives. I'm blessed.
