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It is the running of the turtles (not unlike the running of the bulls in Pamplona but at a slightly different pace)! Oh no, I am mistaken. It is simply Tara out for one of her runs. Whoever thought that the fat kid, the one that her brother warmly referred to as “Whale Bait” and “Flabba Tabba” (he had a little problem pronouncing my first name but not enough to halt his creation of fat remarks) would still be plodding around the neighborhood? Apparently Jesus did. Always the fat girl. My mother started me on Weight Watchers in the sixth grade. I was the fat girl that could not get a date in high school. My weight topped at 180 pounds in my freshman year of college and continued to yo-yo after that. During my college years I lived with Charlie’s Angels and was the smart one. Yuk! I began running after I had my first child. I had done a bit previously, but it was not until Hannah was born that I began to run with regularity. I began by running to the telephone pole at the end of the street. Then it was the driveway around the corner. I inched my way down the road. I ran my first 5k (3.1 miles) after Ashleigh was born (she and Hannah are 17 months apart in age). Whoever thought? I kept running, not fast, but steady. I was running 10k’s (6.2miles). I ran a 5k when seven months pregnant with Austin. All the while I ran I never listened to music. It was me and the road and God. Each step was run by Someone other than me. I know this. I could not begin to do this on my own. My running time became not a means of witght control but a time to pray. Not always thoughtful pretty prayers mind you. God ran me through two divorces, children having to move from my home for their own safety and well being, a bloody custody battle and the continual challenges of being the sole support of a single parent family. Each step has been in conversation with Jesus. There have been joyful runs, angry runs, thankful runs, runs that combined all or many of these feelings and concerns Whoever thought that I would spend the twelve of the last twenty-four hours of a student’s life with her as she died of Leukemia and then run in her memory? Or that a few years later another of my students would fight this hideous disease and that I would run for her. Whoever thought that this sport, in which I do not come close to excelling, would be used to help someone else? Oh sure, I’ll run a marathon. Just put a lantern out and pull the finish line closer for when I will finally come across it. And since this is such a good idea, why not raise several thousand dollars for charity in exchange for the training necessary to do this ridiculous thing.Did everyone laugh and think I was crazy? Yes. So, I ran in the Bermuda and Dublin (Ireland) marathons for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society of America and raised over $8000.00 to help those battling these diseases. Whoever thought? Life is about the journey. A relationship with Jesus is about the journey. Running has taught me that. I added up the mileage that I logged when preparing for the Dublin marathon. I ran over 700 miles training for that event. Running for five to six months in the heat, the rain, alone, with others, with injuries, ice, orthotics, that was the marathon. Every step I take in a run is guided by Jesus. There are days I absolutely fight Him because I don’t think running is such a great idea that day and then He gets me out there and takes me through every bit of it showing me things that I would not have otherwise known. Hannah is twenty three now. I am still running. I am the Patron Saint of the Turtles. Every completed run, regardless of the quality is something I could never hope to achieve on my own. I know that every time I run it is not me doing the running. I know that when I hit the wall or ascend a mountainous hill I can achieve it only because I am not running alone. I am not fast. I never have been nor will I get any faster. I am steady, just as God is ever steady. So what is next? Ireland keeps calling me back. I guess I will have to take a run and have a chat with Jesus to figure it out. I hear they have a little run in DC every fall that is sponsored by the Marines… |
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Saint James United Methodist Church
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