Have you ever resigned yourself to not being able to do something?
I think too many of us do this. With a simple, "I can't," we brush off a possibility without much consideration. We sell ourselves short, we give up, and we give in.
Now, I'm not talking about crazy notions. Like suddenly deciding at the ripe age of 39 to try and become an Olympic gymnast because your gym teacher is handing out stickers. And then with all that extra effort not being able to walk for three days. Not that I've experienced that personally or anything. But stickers can seriously motivate people y'all.
Anyhow.
Four years ago, I had resigned myself to being too old to get in shape. My personal philosophy was the only reason a person needed to sweat is if they were laying out in the sun. Besides, no exercise seemed convenient or fun. It was all outside my comfort zone and made me hurt.
Plus exercise clothes have to be hands down the most non-flattering garments ever constructed. Hello? Spandex tells all people. At least denim attempts to keep some of our secrets, right?
Anyhow.
As I started rounding the second half of my thirty something years, I literally started rounding. So, short of limiting my diet to three cracker crumbs and an apple slice, I was told that I needed to rev up my metabolism. Cool. Surely they have pills for that sort of thing right? When the exercise guru started writing out an exercise plan, I wanted to cry.
This exercise guru by the way looked so stunning in spandex I wanted to slap her.
Not really. But I did have visions of pouring some cottage cheese down her tight little shorts and telling her to go hop up on that torture machine and see how it worked for her with all that mess jiggling around.
I was very upset with Eve at that moment.
For an APPLE people, she brought cellulite and pain during childbirth into this world.
An APPLE!!! I mean I could sympathize if it had been a Chick-fil-A milkshake hanging from that limb. Or even a homemade- from the box turtle brownie. But an apple? Eve, honey, we must talk one day.
Anyhow.
I started exercising. I even started running. And please remember, I use the word running loosely. It started by running from this mailbox to that one and then walking a while. But eventually, I ran past all the mailboxes and could do it without crying and hacking up a lung.
To make a long story short, Holly and I now run an average of 4 miles about 4 times a week now. After years of saying I can't, I learned that I could, in fact, run.
It's still an effort. There are still days I don't want to do it. And there are still times that it makes me hurt. But I love how it makes me afterwards, so I've made it part of my routine.
Even with all that said, I still found myself saying I can't with some aspects of running.
I'd hear people talking about running miles and miles and I'd think, "good for them. I can't do that." Not to mention the fact they had legs like a gazelle. And mine are more of the stout animal variety.
Anyhow.
I woke up yesterday and went to meet Holly for a short run before church. As we finished our four mile route, Holly challenged me and asked if we could go one more. Afterall, we had extra time with the time change and all. Some complaining of my hips hurting ensued but eventually, I agreed.
And something came over us after mile 5. We didn't want to stop.
Hunh? I know, crazy isn't it.
As a matter of fact, we didn't want to stop after miles 6, 7, 8, 9 or 10 either.
What???
And then around mile 11 I wanted to stop so badly I could hardly stand it. But, we were so close to something I never thought possible. A half-marathon. 13.1 miles. We had to go for it.
So, we did.
And we made it.
Somebody please cue the marching band to be joined by the Hallelujah chorus.
As we crossed that imaginary finish line, Holly and I prayed and thanked God for the many things He showed us during that run.
Not the least of which is we need to stop saying, "I can't."
What about you? Is there an area of your life that you've given up in?
Sweet sister... you were not made for impossibility. You were created to be a display through Christ that ALL things are possible.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find a walker and some Advil.
Smiling while I'm limping... and repeating over and over 13.1 ... 13.1!
I think too many of us do this. With a simple, "I can't," we brush off a possibility without much consideration. We sell ourselves short, we give up, and we give in.
Now, I'm not talking about crazy notions. Like suddenly deciding at the ripe age of 39 to try and become an Olympic gymnast because your gym teacher is handing out stickers. And then with all that extra effort not being able to walk for three days. Not that I've experienced that personally or anything. But stickers can seriously motivate people y'all.
Anyhow.
Four years ago, I had resigned myself to being too old to get in shape. My personal philosophy was the only reason a person needed to sweat is if they were laying out in the sun. Besides, no exercise seemed convenient or fun. It was all outside my comfort zone and made me hurt.
Plus exercise clothes have to be hands down the most non-flattering garments ever constructed. Hello? Spandex tells all people. At least denim attempts to keep some of our secrets, right?
Anyhow.
As I started rounding the second half of my thirty something years, I literally started rounding. So, short of limiting my diet to three cracker crumbs and an apple slice, I was told that I needed to rev up my metabolism. Cool. Surely they have pills for that sort of thing right? When the exercise guru started writing out an exercise plan, I wanted to cry.
This exercise guru by the way looked so stunning in spandex I wanted to slap her.
Not really. But I did have visions of pouring some cottage cheese down her tight little shorts and telling her to go hop up on that torture machine and see how it worked for her with all that mess jiggling around.
I was very upset with Eve at that moment.
For an APPLE people, she brought cellulite and pain during childbirth into this world.
An APPLE!!! I mean I could sympathize if it had been a Chick-fil-A milkshake hanging from that limb. Or even a homemade- from the box turtle brownie. But an apple? Eve, honey, we must talk one day.
Anyhow.
I started exercising. I even started running. And please remember, I use the word running loosely. It started by running from this mailbox to that one and then walking a while. But eventually, I ran past all the mailboxes and could do it without crying and hacking up a lung.
To make a long story short, Holly and I now run an average of 4 miles about 4 times a week now. After years of saying I can't, I learned that I could, in fact, run.
It's still an effort. There are still days I don't want to do it. And there are still times that it makes me hurt. But I love how it makes me afterwards, so I've made it part of my routine.
Even with all that said, I still found myself saying I can't with some aspects of running.
I'd hear people talking about running miles and miles and I'd think, "good for them. I can't do that." Not to mention the fact they had legs like a gazelle. And mine are more of the stout animal variety.
Anyhow.
I woke up yesterday and went to meet Holly for a short run before church. As we finished our four mile route, Holly challenged me and asked if we could go one more. Afterall, we had extra time with the time change and all. Some complaining of my hips hurting ensued but eventually, I agreed.
And something came over us after mile 5. We didn't want to stop.
Hunh? I know, crazy isn't it.
As a matter of fact, we didn't want to stop after miles 6, 7, 8, 9 or 10 either.
What???
And then around mile 11 I wanted to stop so badly I could hardly stand it. But, we were so close to something I never thought possible. A half-marathon. 13.1 miles. We had to go for it.
So, we did.
And we made it.
Somebody please cue the marching band to be joined by the Hallelujah chorus.
As we crossed that imaginary finish line, Holly and I prayed and thanked God for the many things He showed us during that run.
Not the least of which is we need to stop saying, "I can't."
What about you? Is there an area of your life that you've given up in?
Sweet sister... you were not made for impossibility. You were created to be a display through Christ that ALL things are possible.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find a walker and some Advil.
Smiling while I'm limping... and repeating over and over 13.1 ... 13.1!
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