Run, Jump, Faith

 
"I was raised up believing I was somehow unique
Like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see
And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be
A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me"
- Helplessness Blues, by Fleet Foxes


This morning I ran a 10k with my brother Haven. I had been training for this event, and by the time it came, 6.2 miles truly didn't feel very daunting at all. However a year ago it very much would have. This has been the year of running for me. It all started with my friend Shelley saying, "Have you ever heard of The Color Run? It looks like the most joyful 5k ever!" She showed me a video of people in white t-shirts running and having powdered colors tossed at them. At the end of the race more color was rained on the runners, who celebrated by jumping and dancing in their no-longer white apparel. I signed up with Shelley and other friends. Even though the course was very muddy and the day was cold, when we crossed the finish line we were just as happy and colorful as the people in the video. Though I have always enjoyed running, it wasn't until I that first 5k - with a set goal and the encouragement/competitiveness of friends - that I began to be serious about running, and to seriously love it.

Up next was a vertical run up 30 flights of stairs, another 5k, and finally the 10k today. I didn't make a New Year's resolution to run: after the first run, I realized it was something I wanted to do, something I'd always been interested in doing but that had seemed intimidating until I actually started. Although I've been able to run farther and faster, in many ways it hasn't gotten easier. In all honesty and candor, the best part of running is the beginning (the rush of starting, the feeling almost of invincibility) and the end (the accomplishment), but the middle part, where your legs and lungs hurt and you feel like stopping but decide to mentally push your body to keep going and going, pounding the pavement while each tenth of a mile seems to grow longer, sucks. It's the thought of the finish line and of the minutes and miles you've set as your goal that propels you onward against the protesting of your limbs. Because the end, the sweet and sweaty victory, is worth it.

More than just the year of running though, it's been the year of jumping into new things. Right before Valentine's Day I had my friend Lindsey dye my hair red. I had always thought it would be fun to try a different hair color so I finally did it. I love it. I jumped in the physical sense when going skydiving for the first time: something else I've always wanted to do. I was baptized by my pastor in a river with family and friends watching and supporting, a thing I'd put off because of insecurity about why I hadn't had it done before then. I went on a mission trip to Honduras along with my brother, his first mission trip. Then I felt God urging me to look at going into full-time missions work, now. So I jumped into the world of missions organizations, applications, looking at different fields of work in countries all over the world, and trusting God to lead me wherever He wants me at just the right time, and provide for me in tangible and emotional ways.

This year has continued the dragged-out nightmare of my car situation with the lying, incapable mechanic,and seeking justice, yet it hasn't gotten to me like it did last year. This has been the year of stepping up to the start line, breathing deep, and running through that middle part of pain and wanting to quit. It's definitely not easy. When thinking about moving overseas next year to work in missions and leaving behind my family, friends, and yes, the comforts and security of the life I know, it often brings me to tears. It's a hard run and a jump into many great unknowns. I have faith that the finish line will be worth it.