I've written before about my love/hate relationship with running....it's mostly still a hate kinda thing. I've been told you reach a point where you achieve a "runner's high" and suddenly find yourself on the side of loving it...hasn't happened here yet.
This morning as I begrudgingly laced up my running shoes I decided to just go for a walk, maybe run a little if I felt like it. The dark clouds lingered from last night's rain storm and the air was crisp. Taking a deep breath I began my route, talking to the Lord as I walked. As we chatted I began to notice some things that previously I had run right past.
The vivid spring green of the new trees.
The flowers bursting from the sleepy earth.
The foothills still clinging to the last bit of snow.
The world around me seemed so much more vivid and that's when it hit me. I've been focusing so much on the drudgery of running that I've missed out on the gift that it is. My focus was wrong. Yes, it can help me get in better shape, but I think that's simply a byproduct. The reality of running is that it affords me time to pray, to listen, to notice. Oftentimes the busyness of life means I run right past it all. In my hurry to get where I'm going I can easily miss out on the beauty of the journey.
Life lived well embraces beauty. It notices the little things and pauses to give thanks.
I walked in the door to a still sleeping house and a second cup of coffee. Heart sigh. Blogging on the patio, the sun has broken through the dark clouds on this Good Friday morning and suddenly I realize maybe I don't hate running after all....maybe.