Grace with a vengeance

Today I ran. It was the first time in about a month, which is the longest I've gone without running in a while. The not running has been frustrating. And it was slow going today--I got winded at about a mile and half, and when I stopped to walk at two my legs shook ever so slightly. But it didn't matter. It was good to feel my body move in that way again, and even when I got home I kept going around the block, sometimes running and sometimes walking, because I kept thinking of more songs on my iPod I wanted to run to for the first time in so long.

As much as I wish I hadn't been forced to spend most of March losing muscle mass, I'm embracing the fact that there is grace in starting over.

In high school, when it wasn't crew season, I used to come home from school and run five miles every day. (I thought it was six at the time, actually, but Google Maps has since proved me wrong.) In college and the beginning of seminary I gradually fell away from that habit, until I was running maybe three or four miles a few times a week, sometimes less, once in a while throwing in a longer run if I felt particularly inspired or fat.

Then second year of seminary I mysteriously injured my foot, spent a few weeks in a boot that made me look like half an astronaut, and didn't run for the rest of the year. I mean, I tried every once in a while. But I was never able to build up any sort of pain-free consistency. Then that summer I headed off for two months in India, good walking sandals in tow, and never once tried to run. I let myself have the break I needed. When I got back to Atlanta, my foot was better and I was ready to start over--which I did, eventually running two half marathons and a full one before graduation. I'm convinced if I hadn't been forced to start over, I'd still be chugging out three miles twice a week. Instead, I came back with a vengeance. Maybe grace and vengeance don't ordinarily go together, but here they do.

There's grace in starting over. It's New Years resolutions and covenant renewal and baptism. None of those things mean much in the long term without the discipline that comes after, but those moments where something new begins to emerge are significant in themselves. From time to time we just need that swift kick in the ass (OK, I wouldn't describe baptism that way to the Board of Ordained Ministry) that comes after a time of knowing something is missing. I wonder when my next race will be. I wonder what I'll be able to do and how I'll be able to improve this time, and I can't wait to get to work.