From point A to point B. Chasing from one point to another. For now, that’s my point. This Lent, I committed to run at least 3 miles a day for 40 straight days. My son gave up cookies.
There’s no way I could give up cookies. Do you know how many girl scouts selling cookies I’ve passed since Ash Wednesday?
Today, I ran 5 miles. It was the fastest 5 miles I’ve run in a few years. It wasn’t fast by the standards of a real runner, but it was a good run for me. My running is progressing, and I feel good about being more consistent in my training. Funny how I couldn’t seem to get my training into a regular routine until Lent came around. Every day when I want to sit on the couch, watch movies and do nothing much at all, this tiny little thought creeps into my mind. “Don’t forget to run,” it says ever so ominously. “Hey, but don’t worry if you miss it. It’s not like you promised God or anything. Wait. Wait. You DID promise God.”
So, I find myself on the treadmill or running out the door to get in 30 minutes or so of good old-fashioned aerobic exercise. It makes me feel good about keeping a commitment. It makes me feel good about myself. It gives me time to think and clear my mind. It has helped me consider my personal and professional goals. It has helped me find a balance between my work and my family. And that is a world of benefits. And that is all that matters. And that is a good thing. Because it certainly hasn’t done anything for me when I step on the scale. I’m down 2 pounds. I’m up 4 pounds. I’m up another 2. Nope, all this running is doing nothing for my weight.
I guess I should have given up cookies.
