Eight Miles in the Rain

It turns out I needed a long run. I needed the solitude. I needed to clear my head. About ten minutes into my run I started to forget about the rain and the wind, and how cold my quads were and the fact that my left sock was slipping down into my shoe. And I just kept going, putting one foot in front of the other. Somehow the repetitious motion always brings clarity and peace. I've been so worried lately by the circumstances of my life, more specifically the financial circumstances--which I won't go into detail about because I might start crying; YOU might even start crying. What good is that if we are both crying?

My husband tells me not to worry. I worry anyway. Usually I'm the hopeful and optimistic one, but lately I've run out of hope and optimism. Which is why I needed a long run. On long runs I usually talk to God. For the first half of the run it's a one-sided conversation: me ranting, questioning, confessing. But sometimes on the second-half, when my mind is cleared of all the thoughts that clouded it when I began, I actually get answers.

So in the last four miles of my eight miles, I stopped worrying, I decided to let it go and accept what I cannot change and decided to be thankful instead. Thankful for my beautiful, healthy daughter. Thankful for my loving husband. Thankful that I don't live 3000 miles away from my family anymore. Thankful that I even have the physical ability to run. Thankful for a God who hears me and knows what I need--even if it is an eight mile run in the rain.