I just accidentally ran 3.75 miles.
You think I’m joking, but no … I am serious. And seriously terrified of how this is going to feel tomorrow. I don’t even know how this happened! Well, wait, yes I do. Here’s what happened:
My average run is a typical 5k. Slightly over three if I push myself, but no more than three most times. I run every other day, but mostly only three times a week. Never two days in a row. I need my heal-time.
Today, I went to my running guru, Stone. He’s the track coach at school and he works just a Stone’s throw away … see what I did there … Ha! Okay, I’ll quit.
Anyway, I asked him what his best advice was for me to transition to running every day. I told him my routine, and he suggested scaling my runs back to two miles and running every day until I can build back up to three miles on a daily. So that was my original plan when I started out today. I checked the weather on my five-minute warm-up walk and noticed it was going to rain tomorrow, and I don’t run in thunderstorms … rain ruins shoes. A light drizzle is okay, but storms are a NO. Do you see how anal I am? Now you must believe that this was all an accident!
I wavered, trying to decide whether to do two, or go ahead and do three since tomorrow was an off day. Since I’m goal oriented, I had to make a decision. I can’t just play it by ear because I’m a quitter if I don’t have a definite goal. Two or three it was, depending on how I felt at the end of two … do you see what I did there? This was the beginning of my losing control.
I ran one mile. My first is on that notorious hill that’s uphill both ways. I hate it, but it adds time and keeps me close to home. My first mile also includes “Quitter’s Hill.” This is the hill I walk almost every time I come up on it. If I can run this hill (I’ve only done it a handful of times), I can run the rest of three miles no problem. I lowered my head on Quitter’s Hill and pushed myself. I couldn’t look up because I did not want to see what was left of it, I just wanted to be over it. Halfway up it, I hear a loud, booming voice say, “You’re doing great! Keep going!” I looked up, fully expecting God to be wearing my favorite colors and waving a fan flag, but it was just a guy standing on his back porch. He said, “That hills a killer!” I laughed and replied, “Yeah it it. I hate it!” He hollered back, “You’re almost there, keep going!”
With encouragement like that, how could I quit? I waved, pushed my head back down and pressed harder into my foot falls. Finally, I crested the hill and began a slow descent. Not too long afterward, I heard my first mile on the app. Twelve minutes, eight seconds. I just kept going. My legs weren’t hurting yet, so I hit my second mile with a relish. I was really surprised when I heard my second mile time: ten minutes, twenty-nine seconds.
Guys! That’s a minutes, thirty-nine less! That’s a full minutes less than my usual second mile. This is where it happened. This is where I lost all control. I could have run forever on that high, so I pushed into my third mile with such gusto and not long afterward heard it: my third mile time. It was nine, fifty-six. At this point, I knew I had to get home but I couldn’t stop. I kept running. I ran three and three-fourths miles this evening. I didn’t mean to, but isn’t it amazing what a little bit of Christ-like encouragement and seeing victories can do to a person! It makes one lose control! In a good way!
Keep running the race, friend. Notice and acknowledge the little victories. Don’t give up, press on! And if you’re not running at the moment, be Jesus. Be an encourager. We’re all in this together. Let’s do this thing, and let’s do it well!