Bad Words with Friends
I had this really cool thing happen this past February. I ran a half marathon. You may ask why I’m writing about it now. Good question. It has taken me a while to reflect.
You see, here’s the funny thing about running all those miles- it’s not the miles that have lingered in my memory. And that’s a lot for me to say. For me, running was and is no small task. Getting over the 1 mile hump was a feat in itself. So it’s not the running, but it’s the depth of relationships built in the arduous training process that’s hanging with me. It’s the faces of friends who drove 8 hours to hold a sign and cheer me down the street that I find myself being thankful for. It was seeing my dad and sister at mile 8, skipping church to show their support, that brings a smile to my face. It’s the Gainesville souls we moved away from last summer joining us in the 13 mile journey that make the memory even sweeter. And it’s also the picture of a friend jumping in the race to finish the last 3 miles with me so I wouldn’t stop and walk that make me shake my head in wonder of the goodness of friendship.
So here’s my point. For me, running 13 miles was and will most likely forever be my biggest physical accomplishment in life (maybe childbirth will rank above that someday…). After about 4 days, my muscles stopped screaming at me (yes, it took that long), after 2 weeks my knees went back to being their normal 28 year old selves, and now my feet don’t hurt. But you know what I still can’t shake? The overwhelming sense of love I felt from having people on the ride with me.
I think that maybe the most major deeds in life are just not that major without people. And I don’t mean just any people, I mean the people that you pour your heart into. I’m talking about the people who join you on the journey, even when the journey involves ice packs and bad words because you hurt so bad.
Maybe this will bring some hope to you today.