going to church is like training on a treadmill

A little while back I mentioned I've started training for a 15K race. At the time, I was running on a treadmill. Actually, I was running a little and walking a lot, but the point is I was training on a treadmill. Then RL decided to start working harder on getting into shape and started walking. He was in sunny California and I'm sure he was mostly motivated by the desire to lose weight than the the beach babes on the Strand. But, anyway, when he got back home we determined to walk together in the evenings. Once the heat and humidity began to rise, I talked him into going for our walk/runs in the morning. To my astonishment, he agreed and we started leaving the house at 5:30 a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays (Saturdays we don't run until 8 a.m.). And we did real well for several weeks. Then one Thursday morning RL just would not get out of bed. I was disappointed, but decided I would go ahead and run on the treadmill. I mean, I was up and dressed anyway.

I stepped onto the treadmill, turned up the speed, and started running. After a couple of minutes I turned up the speed again. Then again. I was going much faster than I had been able to before we started running on the street and I thought, "Wow! I've made a lot more progress on the street than I did when I was only running on the treadmill!" Then I thought (because when I'm running I tend to do a lot of thinking) that's kind of how it is going to church. The real progress we make in our Christian life is when we're out on the streets, living our faith in front of the world, instead of dressing up and putting on a smile in front of a bunch other Christians.

Now, I'm not pointing any fingers here. I'm confessing something about myself, something I realize is true about me. But think about it: How often do we go to church on Sunday (or whatever day you go) and think we've had a good workout and we're in good shape? We even cross-train and pray, read the Bible, teach a class or sing in the choir. But, really, does any of that really build the muscle we need to run the real race? How does any of that really work out our faith? How does any of that reveal Christ to people in our day-to-day lives, except to puff out our chests and say, "Look at me, I'm a good Christian; I go to church all the time." It's out on the street, out with other people, in their lives that we get the really good workout; when we learn to use the faith muscles we didn't even know we had. It's at work, in traffic, even sometimes with our own family members that we discover our weak areas and what we need to work on. We can't build the kind of muscle it takes to love unlovely people if all we do is hang out with the shapely people in God's gym.

But, thankfully, I'm a work in progress and, I know, I've got a lot more training to do. It's just that, now, I'm more aware of the fact that living out my faith is the real work out. Going to church is just running on a treadmill.

run for my life

A couple of weeks ago we had a health fair at work and, aside from a couple of hours of goofing off, we also were able to paricipate in some health screening (cholesterol, blood pressure, etc.). The good news is I received some really good numbers. The bad news is, because of some of my risk factors, I'm as healthy as a woman of 53!! How depressing is that?!! Not that 53 is old or anything, but it's almost 8 years older than I am. Not good.

So, while I was at the health fair, I signed up for a 15k. Luckily, it's not for several months, so I have plenty of time to train. And maybe, just maybe, I'll actually do it. It's been about five years since a ran a race and it was a horrible experience.

At the time, I was actually training for a marathon (I think I must have been crazy, but that's a different story). It was suggested that running in smaller races, and working up to longer ones, would be good experience. So I signed up for a 5k and did my best.

It was the first race I had ever paricipated in, so it was a little intimidating. But I kept telling myself to just do my best, don't let faster runners (or walkers!!) intimidate me, and the goal was just to finish the race.

Heading to the finish line, I was feeling so good about what I had accomplished. And then the announcer's voice came over the PA system, "Oh my, we still have a runner! Where have you been??" I was completely humiliated and could have collapsed right there, 40 feet from the finish line, and cried. But he added (I think to redeem himself), "Come on, give her some encouragement," and the crowd began to clap and cheer. I think my time was roughly 45 minutes. I decided that day, races weren't for me.

So why have I signed up for this race? Well, I've wanted to do the race for years AND it's the same week as my birthday. But for just a little more incentive, RL and I are going on a tropical vacation this summer, so I have to get in shape for that too. Hopefully, by then, I'll be in shape for both and not look or feel like an old woman.

naked oklahoma

I've lived in Oklahoma all my life. Even so, there are a lot of places I haven't been or sites I've never seen in the state. I've never been to the Tall Grass Prairie Reserve where the buffalo roam or the Little Sahara . But, apparently, there are some places in Oklahoma I've never even heard of.

Flipping through the March 2008 issue of Runner's World, I came across an article about a race in Oklahoma. Interesting. But even more interesting is that for the race clothing is optional. Say what? That's right, the Trail of Tears 5-K at the Oaklake Trails Naturalist Resort you can run sans running shorts (or anything else for that matter). They don't even wear a race number.

Now, I'm sure for some (say small children) running around naked could be fun. But, I'm sorry, I just could not bring myself to participate in running naked, let alone in a race. Dang, I wouldn't even run naked on my treadmill. I could put my eye out!

running through (conclusion)

There's the real problem: dealing with the issues as they come instead of letting them overtake me. Whether it's a run I missed or something in my spiritual life. I can run that evening or the next morning. I can ask God to forgive me for those defeating thoughts and to help me when I'm weak. Instead of beating myself up and feeling defeated for days, the best -- the hardest -- thing to do is just get right back on my feet and go on.

My first 5K race (which also happened to be my last) I was so excited. I kept telling myself not to let the adrenaline push me. I would be disciplined and, no matter my time, I would finish the race. That was my only goal.

As I came around the last turn I found cars parked on either side of the narrow road. People were already walking back to their cars! I heard one of them exclaim, "There's still people running?" Yes, I was still running. As I approached the finish line the announcer reported over the loud speaker, "Hey, there's still a runner out there! What took you so long?" I nearly cried right then and there. I was exhausted and humiliated, but I had reached my goal: I had finished the race.

One day I'll finish this race called life and I will hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant." That is my goal. Until then I'm working on my form, building my strength. I'm still training, still running. There will be more hills to climb, more obstacles to face, whatever this life may bring. But I am determined to finish the course. Look how far I've already come . . . I can't quit now!

running through, part 5

The day I determined to make myself go back to church was much like my first run after several months: After twenty minutes I was exhausted and went home. Building my spiritual endurance would seem to be fairly easy. It's not as tiring as running, but this Christian endurance challenge takes just as much , if not more, discipline and determination.

When I first started running, those twenty years ago, I had to start slow. I found out the hard way that I couldn't run at full speed if I was going to finish a mile. Sure, back then I could run 6 mph, but I couldn't run a mile in ten minutes. Not at first. I had to build up to it. I had to discipline myself to control my speed so that I could run the distance. It was important to run slow and steady so I wouldn't wear myself out.

Though I've been a Christian all my life, I'm still in training. There's all these things I can do -- teach Sunday school, sing in the choir, make dinners for families in need -- but if I haven't built up my endurance, I'll soon burn out.

Comparing myself to others is one of the hardest things to overcome. I found when I would run at the park, where there are so many other runners, I would tend to try to catch up with those ahead of me. I would see other women who seemed to be around my age, but more fit and faster than myself. I couldn't catch up with them or look anything like them.

At church I would see women, mothers like myself, who seemed to have it all together. Most of them were stay-at-home moms (which was what I would have preferred for myself and my children) and who had, I imagined, all this time to devote to prayer and Bible study, giving and serving, always more "spiritual" than I could ever be.

Even today I struggle with the comparisons, but not as much. I've learned what my limits are, what I can do and what I need to work towards and what I don't need to do at all. It's those times when I don't do the very thing I know I should that sets me back. I begin to remind myself of all the things I should have done today and didn't. I missed a run. I missed church. Whatever I should be doing I haven't done and I am a failure.

I should recognize that voice and tell it to shut up as soon as I hear it. But I don't. I sit and listen. I take the scolding. But instead of being more determined I feel defeated. Days will go on like this and, once again, depression has it's grip on me.

running through, part 4

I knew I would get a little down sometimes, but I didn't want to accept a full blown case of depression. And those words the doctor had used -- Exercise. Regularly. -- kept coming back to me. Could it be that simple for me? Could regular exercise be what could get me through bouts with these debilitating seasons? I'm determined to find out!

Let me just say, though, running is what I do (because I think I always need to be doing something). Running clears my head, builds my endurance and my strength. My Faith does the same for my soul. My faith is what gets me out of bed in the morning. I couldn't run the "good race" without faith. But I find depression creeping in, crouching down waiting for a chance to pounce on me and knock me down. Sometimes I can feel it there, before it has a grasp on me. Sometimes I can resist it and it will flee. Sometimes the depression gains control. Sometimes it gains so much control I don't even go to church -- can't go to church. And if I do, I just sit there and cry.

That's exactly what happened this past month. I had been getting up at 5 a.m. to run (mornings are much better for me) and I had been doing pretty well, too. Then life got overwhelming and I slept in one morning. Then the next morning and the next. I beat myself up for not doing what I knew I should, for not taking better care of myself, for not doing this one thing for myself. These thoughts led to self-pity.

Why does everything always fall apart? Why can't things just work out? Why does something have to happen everyday? When is it going to stop?

Of course this only made me feel worse and more overwhelmed. It became difficult even to get up and go to work in the morning. By the time I'd get home in the evening I was done for the day! I didn't want to go anywhere or do anything. My daughter was at work, my husband was out of town, so there wasn't any reason to cook or anything else. I would just simply shut down.

On Wednesday nlghts I knew I should be at church. But I also knew that the first time (and it was inevitable) someone asked me how I was doing, I was going to fall apart. I knew I might not even make it as far as the church before I might break down crying -- so why even try? Even though I knew I would feel better, be encouraged and, more importantly, get support from my friends, I chose to hide out in my house and sleep until I just had to get up.

running through, part 3

Exercise. Regularly. Those were the words my doctor had used. I knew I could exercise. I knew I could get myself back into running. But running on a regular basis just seemed impossible. My life was just too full to squeeze in time for it. But I tried. I did try.

We had bought a treadmill about -- has it been -- ten years ago, so I could walk or run anytime I wanted. I just didn't really ever want to. But sometimes I did. Sometimes I would be determined. I would schedule time on my calendar to run. I would add it to my to-do lists. But eventually life would get in the way, I would begin to feel overwhelmed, and exercise seemed to be the least important thing I had to do. It was an easy elimination from my hectic schedule.

I slowly began to see a pattern forming. I would feel good, get motivated, and start running. Then after two or three weeks something would happen, life would get more hectic, I would feel more overwhelmed, more tired, and I would quit running. Before I knew it, a couple of months had gone by before I had that good, motivated feeling again. But, as usual, it didn't last more than a couple of weeks. After a year or so of going through this, it finally occurred to me that what I was struggling with wasn't just premenopause, but depression.

running through, part 2

Twenty years ago. Part of me hates even being able to say that. But I take pride in hearing from others I don't look my age. At times my body feels old, but my heart is young.

Anyway, twenty years ago I was runing for the physical benefits. At that time I had no idea how much I needed to run through my problems. I needed to learn how to discipline myself. I needed that feeling that runner's get after pushing their physical limits. I didn't realize all that until more recently.

A couple of years ago, after my Mom died, I found myself unable to control my emotions. I had processed grief before, several times, but something was happening in my head that I didn't understand. I would start crying for seemingly no reason. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to do anything.

My annual visit to my doctor clued me in as to what was happening to me. She said, simply, I was getting old. I was, in fact, forty years old and quite possibly pre-menopausal. Understandably, I began to cry.

She put her arm around me and told me it wasn't that bad, that I just needed to start taking better care of myself. It reminded me of the scene in Fried Green Tomatoes when Mrs. Threadgoode tells Evelyn she just needed to get herself some of them hormones.

My doctor didn't prescribe hormones, but a simple vitamin regimen and exercise. The vitamins were easy, but exercise? I'd been down that road before -- literally. But it had been a long time since I had made it a regular part of my life.

running through, part 1

It was Tuesday night, around 6:00. It was a little warm, a little humid, but that's expected in Oklahoma. I had gone to the high school track to run. Two miles on a quarter-mile track gets monotonous, but I wasn't willing to take my flabby thighs out on the street before dark. Besides, it was quiet on the track, no distractions, and I could concentrate on my run. I needed to concentrate. It was the first time in my life I was really having to work hard for something. I had to work out these problems in my head and running was the best way to do it. That was twenty years ago.