Human after all

This humanity thing is not always simple. Or fun.

Today, I joined my team for a training run of 17 miles. However, I only made it for about 13 of them before I had to stop. Last week, on a 15 mile run, I made it to 11, then had to stop, but that time I was able to continue and finish the distance. Not today.

Yesterday was a difficult day for me, and it made today's results feel like a failure. I could have used some success today, but apparently God didn't get that memo.

I left the training session feeling very down about what happened.

You see, I felt like I had lost hope. I had hoped I would not encounter a day like yesterday, but I did. I had hoped I would finish 17 miles and be celebrating it, but I didn't. And I hoped this week's run would redeem last week's, but that was not the case.

I thought perhaps a nap would refresh my body and spirit, but I laid awake, physically sore and emotionally uncomfortable.

The phone rang. It was a friend of mine who was excited by some news she got. An unexpected, slim possibility had come to pass and her faith was rewarded right when things looked the darkest for her in a very difficult situation.

I went out to my car with a Sharpie permanent marker. On the back of my car is a "13.1" sticker marking the first day I ran a half-marathon (13.1 miles). Underneath the numbers, I printed the words "and counting."

Hope is an elusive thing, sometimes. I'm disappointed and embarrassed that I could not go the distance my friends were able to go. It will probably still take some more time to work through those feelings. They seem to be running deep. But, some wee, defiant part of me has begun to rise up, some part willing to add that "and counting," some part that refuses not to believe no matter how the rest of me feels.

Though it may be in the minority at this moment, I am grateful for that wee, defiant part. It is the spark of hope.